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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25634599">The Fiancee</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moriartyszombie/pseuds/Moriartyszombie'>Moriartyszombie</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera &amp; Related Fandoms, Phantom of the Opera (2004), Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Phantom of the Opera Fusion, Multi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 10:47:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>24,239</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25634599</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moriartyszombie/pseuds/Moriartyszombie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Phillippe had never wanted a wife, but that is what he ended up with. Who is this woman? Why did she decide to marry the eldest de Changy? Why is Raoul so infatuated with her, and what does this mean for Christine?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Her Arrival</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She was new, and that was the only thing anyone could say about Phillippe’s bride. A meeting had been called by the de Changy patriarch. The younger siblings Victoria, Adelaide and Raoul sat in Phillippe’s office, jaws agape. Their elderly Aunt Agatha had also been asked to attend. She was their mother figure ever since the de Changy matriarch died suddenly in childbirth. </p><p>“You can’t be serious Phillippe” Victoria scoffed, furiously waving her fan. “You didn’t even tell Aunt Agatha you were courting”. </p><p>“I can’t believe you are actually going through with this” Raoul mumbled from his seat. He had positioned himself as far away from his brother as possible. This foul mood had penetrated the house for days, only being broken by this news. </p><p>“Someone has to carry on the family name” Phillippe hissed in return, glaring daggers at the youngest of the siblings. Raoul slunk back in his chair, looking at his Auth Agatha, who refused to meet his gaze. </p><p>“And not with the most common of prostitutes” giggled Adelaide. Raoul shot his sister a dark glare. A smack landed on the young lady’s thigh, causing her to squeak in pain. </p><p>“Enough Adelaide. That type of speech is not suitable for a proper young lady” hissed the elderly lady. </p><p>“When will she arrive?” Victoria cleared her throat, grabbing the attention of her siblings once more. </p><p>“In about 5 days. She arrives in the port of Marscielle in three days. It will take her about another two to get here” Phillippe sighed. What should have been a moment of joy for any man was a nightmare for him. “Until then, I would like it if you all stayed close to home. Niamh has a bad habit of arriving places early. I would hate for any of my siblings to miss her arrival because of their galavanting around the city”. </p><p>Raoul looked down in fury. That comment was directly aimed at him, they all knew it. </p><p>“Niamh?” Adelaide’s nose scrunched up in disgust. “That is an ugly name”. Another thwack could be heard, and the cry of the young woman rang out. </p><p>“Honestly Addy, this is why no one wants to marry you” Victoria hissed. </p><p>“She is Irish. Lady Niamh Costlow, daughter of the previous Earl of Dunraven. Her brother, Crevan Costlow, is the current Earl”. The family looked stunned, they expected a lady of rank, but not that high. By all accounts, she was marrying beneath her. </p><p>“And, she accepted your proposal?” Agatha asked softly, trying to soften the blow of her question. </p><p>“You mean why did she accept?” Phillippe smirked. “I have known her for quite some time. She is the owner of The Costlow Trading Company, where we have gotten some of our more exotic art pieces. She is a very well-traveled lady, gracious and she has a fortune to put ours to shame. Her brother is pushing her to wed, I am being pushed to wed, and we have become agreeable”. Agatha nodded, still eyeing her nephew suspiciously. </p><p>“She knows of your...reputation?” Agatha continued to question. The woman wanted answers and Phillippe was being stingy with them. </p><p>“Naimh knows. We went over the details on my last visit to Berlin”. Agatha could hear the edge in his voice, and decided that the rest of her questions could wait. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have some work to do. Raoul will you stay for a minute, I need to talk to you”. The ladies bid their brother and nephew a good day, before filing out of the office. Raoul stayed, glued to his seat with white hot anger. </p><p>“Plan on yelling at me some more?” he grumbled. Phillippe let out a snort, shuffling some papers around on his desk. </p><p>“You are the reason this wedding even has to take place. All I ask is that you keep your disgrace to a minimum. I want to make a good impression”. </p><p>“If you don’t have anything of importance to tell me, I will be taking my leave”. Raoul’s teeth ground together, he was tired of the constant beratement from his brother. Not long before the announcement of Phillippe’s wedding, Raoul had been discovered. The young de Changy’s infatuation with the infamous soprano Christine Daae had been revealed. There had been a large fight between the brother’s. Raoul tried to convince Phillippe that his intentions were pure, and he truly loved Christine. Phillippe seemed to only care about disgracing the family. </p><p>“Phillippe, it's not like that. I love her!” Raoul roared. </p><p>“I would rather it be just some fling Raoul! How could you be so stupid, falling in love with an actress” his brother retorted. </p><p>“Like you and Sorelli”?</p><p>“I don’t plan on marrying Sorelli”. </p><p>“So you string her along! At least I am not a liar”! </p><p>“I don’t care Raoul, you are not to see that girl again. I will make sure”. Phillippe wanted to hit his younger brother, but kept himself restrained. Little did he know, Raoul wanted to do the same thing. The de Changy men had always had a horrible temper, but Phillippe was the only one prone to violence. </p><p>“I am not a child Phillippe. I know why you want me to marry into a ‘good family’, it's because you can’t”, Phillippe’s face darkened. “You spend your whole life whoring and gambling away the money Mama and Papa left. I know you don’t have enough for Victoria’s dowry. The one you promised her fiance’s family”. </p><p>“Enough” Phillippe grumbled. </p><p>“You are a hypocrite!” Raoul screamed, his rage now out of control. </p><p>“I said enough Raoul” the elder was trying very hard to keep his cool. </p><p>“If Mama and Papa were alive to see what a louse you have become…” with a hard slap Raoul was silenced. </p><p>“If it wasn’t for you, Mama would still be here” Phillippe immediately regretted his words, but it was too late now. Raoul held his cheek, tears stinging at his eyes before he barricaded himself in his room. </p><p>This event happened a little less than a month ago. In that time Raoul had been put on lockdown by the household. He had seen Christine a handful of times, but then something happened. A little after his argument with Phillippe, Christine disappeared. No one could find her for a while, and then she showed up to rehearsal one day. Right after rehearsal ended, she disappeared again. No one could tell him anything, which distressed the young man. Raoul had no one to turn to, and a whole lot of rumors to wade through. </p><p>“Raoul wait, I am not done” Phillippe roared. Raoul, startled, stayed glued to his chair. “I actually have a request for you. When Niamh comes to Paris, I would like you to stay with her in her journeys around the city”. </p><p>Raoul’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Why”? </p><p>Phillippe sighed, he would have to at least be partially truthful with his brother if he wanted this task done. “Niamh is a very...unconventional lady. My fear is that she will not be understood by Paris society. I would like you to show her how we do things here”. </p><p>“You want me to babysit her? Or have you asked her to babysit me?” Raoul hissed. </p><p>“She knows nothing of your escapades, and I would like it if we kept it that way. Niamh has a way of making herself into situations she does not belong in”. Phillippe sighed, he didn’t want to give away too much information. </p><p>“Fine, if it will keep you out of my hair for a while” Raoul sniffed before rising from his seat and walking out of the door. Phillippe sat back in his chair and sighed. What fresh hell had he unleashed on this family? </p><p>Four days passed in a flash, and the household anticipated the arrival of Phillippe’s bride. The house was buzzing, this had been the first new family member in over twenty years. Servants buzzed about the type of lady that would marry Phillippe. That was to say, they were trying to come up with possible things wrong with the woman. Some believed her to be hideous, but with Phillippe’s rather harsh dismissal of an unfortunate looking daughter of a distant Bourbon relative of great wealth, she had to have some charms. Some believed she was mute, or def, which was a possibility. Other possibilities ranged from her having poor fashion choices, to having a child with Phillippe and finally putting her foot down. No one could put their finger on it, and Phillippe was not talking. Even when Agatha pressured him for more answers, he refused to budge. He would only say that their “arrangement was agreed upon by both parties”. </p><p>Early on the fifth day, the family was up and ready for the entrance of Phillippe’s fiancee. At around eleven in the morning, she was announced at the door. The family stood in the foye, anxious to see who swept through the door. A woman who looked to be in her thirties walked proudly into their home. Her brown hair was neatly done, and covered by a bright green hat that matched her dress. Her well tanned skin was a stark contrast to her outfit. Piercing blue eyes studied them all, almost viciously. She held in her hand a finely decorated cane, black with vines embossed into its surface. It was topped with a cloudy pink stone. </p><p>Phillipe was instantly at her side, but her gaze on the family did not waiver. “Niamh this is my Aunt Agatha, my sisters Victoria and Adelaide, and my brother Raoul”, he said with formality. </p><p>“Hello” she replied, with a nod. Her French was odd, heavily influenced by her thick Irish accent. </p><p>“Hello my dear, welcome” Agatha said stiffly. The siblings called their own welcome before Phillippe ushered them all into the drawing room. </p><p>Raoul was enthralled, this wasn’t what he was expecting. Like the rest of the house, he had his own ideas of what Phillippe’s bow would be. He had expected her to be timid, without a trace of dignity for herself. The exact opposite of his mistress. </p><p>The family took their usual seats, giving each other confused glances. Phillippe sat Niamh on a sofa next to him. At first Raoul believed he was protecting her from them. It wasn’t until the conversation began, that he realized, he was protecting them from her. </p><p>“So I hear you own a trading company?” Agatha began, eyeing the young woman. </p><p>“Yes” Niamh replied simply. </p><p>“Your brother was unable to attend to this prospect, no doubt”. </p><p>“No, I started the company, and I still run it”. The family looked shocked, that was highly unusual. A smile played on Raoul’s lips, so she was a sailor. </p><p>“Where are you from?” Victoria stammered. </p><p>“Ireland, but I have spent the last fifteen years at sea”. Her responses were quick, and to the point. Not allowing for any speculation. Raoul liked that. </p><p>“So you speak English?” Raoul replied, putting on his best English accent for her. Niamh smiled softly, turning her gaze directly onto him. </p><p>“You speak English well,” she laughed. Agatha, Victoria and Adelaide looked at Raoul with confusion. The ladies of the household knew no other language, it was deemed improper by some family relation years ago. Raoul only knew French and English himself, but Phillippe had a talent for language. The eldest de Changy knew French, English and German, something he was very proud of. “We should keep with French to be polite” Niamh winked, before she set back into her heavily accented French. </p><p>“Raoul, why don’t you tell Niamh about your next expedition with the Navy” Phillippe said suddenly. Raoul blinked in confusion at his brother, before beginning. </p><p>“I-I am to go to the North Pole at the beginning of next year” he frowned. </p><p>“How delightful, the North Pole is a remarkable place” Niamh laughed. Her body language was now completely different. Those piercing eyes were now soft and warm. Her body had relaxed, causing her to slouch slightly. This woman was obviously not this proper normally. </p><p>“You have been there?” Victoria asked. </p><p>“Yes, I have been there and many other countries”. </p><p>“Have you been to China?” Raoul remarked with childish glee. </p><p>“Yes, briefly. My trading company does a lot more business with South East Asia, so I have only been there a few times”. </p><p>“Then why don’t you wear prettier clothing?” Adelaide remarked sourly. </p><p>“Lace and frills have a tendency to come off at sea. I suppose I will have to buy some nicer clothing for Paris” Niamh remarked, not phased by the youngest daughter's criticism. </p><p>“Honestly Adelaide, watch your tongue, you aren’t a child anymore” Phillippe hissed. His attention turned back to Niamh. “I think I will show Niamh to her room”. The family watched as Phillippe led his bride out of the room. It was then that Raoul realized why she hadn’t handed over her cane when the staff had taken her hat and gloves. She had a pronounced gait, and used the cane to walk. Raoul looked on puzzled, but decided to keep his questions for another day. For now, he was pleased with his new sister.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Damn Stairs</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Niamh sighed, annoyed at this entire affair. She really did hate Paris. All of the pomp and circumstance irritated her to the very core. Her room was nice, and away from everyone else in the family, with the exception of Phillippe. He made sure that he was close by. She should have never agreed to this, but what was done was done. The lady had spent the rest of the day locked away in her room, doing some work she had neglected on the journey. Her leg throbbed from the day, she had done a fair amount of walking. </p><p>At about midnight, Niamh decided that she needed to indulge herself a little. She quietly opened the door to her room, looking down the halls to make sure no one was around. Quickly she rushed out, down the grand staircase and out the front door. She searched until she found a secluded spot around the side of the large home. It was a very well maintained property, but that made for some very poor hiding spots. Finally, she felt comfortable enough to take out a small silver case from her pocket, and pull a cigarette from it. She lit a match and inhaled sharply. Phillippe had warned her to not smoke once she came to Paris, but as long as no one saw her, she felt it was not a big deal. </p><p>Her eyes closed as she leaned against the wall she had wedged herself next too. There would be fewer chances to indulge in her ‘hedonistic’ lifestyle here, she would have to take every opportunity she got. About halfway through her cigarette, she heard rustling coming from above her. It was dark, so when she looked up at the overhang above her, she saw nothing. Convincing herself she had simply heard an animal of some sort, she went back to her task. Again she could head rustling, but now it was coming from the bushes to the left of her. It sounded big. She dropped her cigarette and grabbed at the top of her cane. Niamh was ready to confront whatever creature was lurking about. </p><p>“Niamh?” a soft voice whispered from the darkness. She recognized it as Raoul's voice, and immediately relaxed. She had gotten worked up for nothing. </p><p>“Raoul, what are you doing?” Niamh whispered. Raoul emerged from the bushes, wringing his hands in embarrassment. </p><p>“Please don’t tell Phillippe” he moaned. Niamh was suspicious, but not enough to go running to her soon to be husband. </p><p>“What’s going on?” she hissed. </p><p>“I-I…” he stuttered, looking around wildly. Niamh groaned, he was on edge standing there. She would never get an answer out of him in this state. </p><p>“Where are you going?” if she was going to figure anything out, she had to get him in a safe environment. Her carriage was her most logical choice. </p><p>“The Paris Opera House” he cried, a little too loudly. </p><p>“Fine, we can take my carriage, but I am coming with you”. Raoul nodded, excited for this opportunity. They made their way to the stables, where a stable boy slept for the night. One of Victoria’s horses was giving birth, so the young man was there to keep guard. Niamh was not quiet in her approach of this young man. The boy rose with a start, first checking to see if the mare was having issues. Niamh looked at Raoul, prompting him to ask the boy to ready her carriage. </p><p>“Uh…” he gulped, the boy eyeing him suspiciously. Niamh rolled her eyes, and glared daggers at the boy. </p><p>“You, ready my carriage. Wake a reputable driver” Niamh said sternly. </p><p>“But Madame” the boy cowered, gazing at Raoul “The Comte has expressly said-”.</p><p>“I am the Comte’s wife, you will do as I say”. Her tone could command an army, this young man stood no chance. Without another sound, the stable boy ran off for a driver and to ready the carriage. </p><p> </p><p>Not long after bullying the stable boy into submission, Niamh and Raoul were off. This carriage was very distinct, it was a smaller, enclosed carriage with no distinctive markings on it. What made it so distinct were the set of stairs on this piece. The steps were wider, and lower to the ground than most. This accommodated Niamh’s disability. </p><p>Niamh sat staring at Raoul with icy intensity. Her gaze froze the young man’s soul. The Vicomte avoided her eyes like they were a plague. She was far too intense for him right now, there was enough on his mind. </p><p>“What’s happening?” She asked him pointedly. </p><p>“I have to find Christine” Raoul sighed, gazing through the small window. </p><p>“Who is she”? Niamh was not going to back down, she felt she had the right to know.  </p><p>“She is my childhood sweetheart” Raoul sighed dreamily. Niamh sighed, this was all about puppy love. Raoul continued to explain the plight he was in, Christine’s disappearance, reappearance and subsequent avoidance of him. He had spoken with some friends Christine had at the Opera, and none of them knew anything. There was also mention of Christine’s newest music teacher, who transformed her once weak and unimpressive voice, to the voice of a real diva. </p><p>Raoul’s story was disjointed, and confusing. Niamh had no idea what to make of this, she was having a hard time comprehending the point of all of this. </p><p>“So why are we sneaking out to the Paris Opera House in the wee hours of the morning”?</p><p>“I have to find her. She practices with her teacher after rehearsals. I want to meet this Maestro, and talk to Christine. He must be the reason why she has avoided me for these weeks”. Raoul’s hands were clenched into tight fists, he was obviously jealous of this mystery man. </p><p>“Don’t you think you are being a little rash?” Niamh replied sternly. </p><p>“I love her, and I will do anything to make sure she is safe” Raoul hissed indignantly. </p><p>“I understand my darling but you are also making assumptions. Her career is just beginning, it is natural to lax on personal relationships for a short amount of time”. Raoul pouted, the woman had a point, but that didn’t put him at ease. His curiosity could not be quenched until he saw Christine again. </p><p>The carriage pulled up to the massive facade of the opera house. Raoul helped Niamh out of her carriage, which came as a relief to the woman. Her leg was still giving her trouble from the previous day’s journey. The two scaled the staircase, and came face to face with the night guard. </p><p>“I am sorry Vicomte, but Mademoiselle Daae is…” </p><p>“We are not here for anyone named Daae” Niamh cut him off, she was not in the mood for any obstacles. “My brother-in-law is showing me the opera my husband gives his patronage too. Pain is the ultimate cognizant”. </p><p>“You are married to…?” the guard asked shakily. </p><p>“The Comte de Changy”, her voice was crystal clear but had an aura of darkness around it. Her eyes dared this man to challenge her. </p><p>“I-I am sorry, I did not know he was married”. </p><p>“Well now you do”. </p><p>“Lady Costlow has just arrived in Paris. Please Monsieur”, Raoul pleaded. </p><p>“My nights can be very dull. I won’t take more than an hour” Niamh raised a single eyebrow, waiting for this man’s reply. The elderly guard furrowed his brows, contemplating the idea of letting two people in so late at night. “I can assure you that if you receive any consequence for allowing us to enter, I will personally come and explain myself”. Niamh took a small notebook and a pencil from her pocket. Something she rarely left home without. The lady wrote down an address, ripped out the page and handed it to him. “If you have any issues, please go to this address and talk to Iacob Bohm. He will make sure you have my immediate attention”. This seemed to satisfy the man, who stepped aside without any hesitation. Niamh and Raoul quickly walked in, calling out their thanks to the man. </p><p>The grand interior of the main hall was stunning. Filled with white marble, and expertly carved adornments. Beautiful greek statues lined alcoves in the walls. It was truly a magnificent sight. Niamh admired the beauty of the hall in the low candle light. As she passed a few of the alcoves, she noticed that one of them seemed out of place. It was much deeper set than the rest of the alcoves, and had a distinct gap between the edge of the indent and the adjacent wall. Builders often made mathematical mistakes, so while this was odd, it did not send out any alarms. </p><p>“Niamh, quick, this way!” Raoul cried, bounding up one of the sets of stairs. Niamh hadn’t realized there was a massive staircase leading to the stage and boxes. Raoul bounded up another set before looking back at his sister-in-law with a frown. “Oh, I am sorry. Did you want me to help you”? </p><p>Naimh raised a hand, smiling broadly. “Go ahead, I will meet you back here in an hour”.  Raoul smiled, continuing his rush to find his ‘childhood sweetheart’. </p><p>Niamh grumbled to herself, looking around the massive hall once more. She wanted to go and explore, but until she was miraculously healed by the good lord himself, she couldn’t go up those stairs without help. The lady decided to wait for Raoul right there. She picked the most comfortable looking wall, and leaned there. The notebook in her pocket called to her, she had still not finished her work. With a quick hand she retrieved the book and began doing her tedious task. </p><p>Not much later, Niamh caught the sounds of whispering coming from the front entrance. She looked up to see three young women standing there conspiratorially.</p><p>“Please don’t tell him I was here” a young woman whispered. Her face was covered by the hood of her cloak. </p><p>“Don’t worry! We will throw him off your trail!” a young ballerina cried emphatically. She had light brown hair, with a very slight figure. She couldn’t have been more than fourteen. </p><p>“I don’t see why you have to lie to him like this,” the other ballerina said haughtily.  This olive skinned harpy’s deep brown eyes pierced the hooded figure. Niamh liked this one, she reminded her of Niamh in her younger years.</p><p>“Meg please, it's easier this way” the cloaked woman replied before taking her leave. The two ballerinas shifted uncomfortable around, watching their conspirator leave. Niamh shoved her notebook back into her pocket and listened closely. She was covered in the shadow of a massive overhang. </p><p>“Ugh, now we have to deal with the Vicomte” the olive skinned ballerina scoffed. </p><p>“Maybe we should talk to Sorelli first” the younger ballerina replied. Now Niamh was interested, these two knew the mistress of Phillippe. Niamh was very interested in this Prima Ballerina that stole the heart of her future husband. Not out of jealousy, but out of curiosity. </p><p>Niamh moved from her position, quietly approaching the two ballerinas. Her slippers made no noise on the marble flooring, but a strike from her cane gave her position away. The two turned to see her, standing in an authoritarian position. </p><p>“I am sorry, but the opera is closed for the evening”. The swarthy ballerina took a few steps forward, grimacing. </p><p>“I know,” Niamh replied softly. “I am simply waiting for the Vicomte to return, we came together”. </p><p>“Who are you?” the younger ballerina piped in. </p><p>“I am his sister-in-law, Lady Niamh Costlow, pleasure to meet the both of you”. The two girls froze, this information obviously disturbed them. </p><p>“Sister-in-law? His brother is married?” the swarthy ballerina growled. </p><p>“He will be on Friday” the lady replied simply. She needed more information, and these two were in the prime position to give it to her. “You two are”? </p><p>“My name is Cecile Jammes! Everyone just calls me Jammes!” the young ballerina cried enthusiastically, pushing past her friend. “This is Megan Giry”. Meg scowled, she hadn’t planned on indulging the intruder with such sensitive information. </p><p>“Could I ask a favor? I promised the night guard we would leave in under an hour. Time is dwindling and I am a lady of my word. Could you help me up the stairs?” Niamh tapped her cane, alerting them to her disability. </p><p>“Oh yes! We can help” Jammes looked at Meg intensely, as if she had just found the perfect excuse to complete her mission and remove Raoul from the premises. Niamh smiled warmly, as the girls led her to her greatest enemy, the staircase.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Ballerinas</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Oh dear sweet Jesus, stairs need to be outlawed” Niamh hissed in her native tongue. Meg and Jammes stopped with her at the top of the steps. They had done a fantastic job of making sure Niamh didn’t fall down the stairs, which she almost had a few times. Her leg was very unsteady, and had little muscle left to it. Even if she could make it up on her own, it would have been an even more arduous task. </p><p>“Was that English?” Meg asked plainly. </p><p>“Yes, I am from Ireland”. </p><p>“Ireland! I have heard it’s a beautiful place” Jammes cried, dancing around in front of Niamh, who was breathing very heavily. </p><p>“Oh it is, but I haven’t been there in quite some time” Niamh smiled, steadying herself, ready for the next leg of her journey. </p><p>“How did you injure your leg?” Meg asked, her tone was cross. This young woman really wanted answers. </p><p>“Childhood accident. Thank you two for your help, hopefully the Vicomte will be able to help me down” Niamh said quickly. Now wasn’t the time for explanations, she needed to find Raoul. </p><p>“Hey! I have some questions” Meg hissed. Jammes grabbed Meg, trying to calm her very annoyed friend. </p><p>“What questions could you possibly have” Niamh’s tone stiffened, taking on that authoritarian air again. Meg instantly regretted her words. This woman looked harmless, almost destitute. Her dress was plain, her hair was tied in a loose braid, and her coat was far too big for her small frame. The only thing that looked like something someone of her rank would have, was her cane. It was one of the prettiest things Meg had seen in her young life. </p><p>“Please don’t be angry, Meg is just concerned” Jammes stammered. </p><p>“About what?” Niamh’s voice was cold, as she stood straight. Her stature was small, but she used every millimeter to her advantage.</p><p>“Well, why are you here? Really” Meg said softly, trying not to press her luck. </p><p>“As I said before, I am here with the Vicomte. He has come to see a Mademoiselle Daae”. </p><p>“So he was here to see Christine!” Jammes panicked, looking around frantically. </p><p>“That’s all he said?” Meg questioned further. </p><p>“Yes” Niamh hissed, she was becoming irritated with the questions. “Now, you will answer a question of mine. It's obvious the young woman with you before was Christine. Why is she trying to avoid the Vicomte. Does she not share his feelings”? </p><p>“She cares for him deeply but her Maestro has told her she can’t be around him” Jammes blurted. </p><p>“Her Maestro? Who might that be? An employee of the Opera”?</p><p>“We don’t know. None of us have ever seen him” Meg replied. She was becoming paranoid, but Niamh didn’t understand why. It suddenly hit her, she could hear the distinct sound of footsteps in the distance. It reverberated around the hall, seemingly coming from every direction. These ghostly footsteps poured tension into the air, enough to unsettle the little ballerinas. </p><p>“What else goes on in this place?” Niamh questioned, trying to find the source of these footsteps. </p><p>“Don’t you dare say a thing Jammes” Meg snapped ferociously. Jammes looked at her friend, scared to death. </p><p>“Jammes, what else goes on here” Niamh hissed, she was in no mood for games. </p><p>“Well, there are the stories about the Opera Ghost” James mumbled, on the verge of tears. </p><p>“Opera Ghost?” Meg smacked her little friend in a fit of rage. </p><p>“Shut up”! Meg cried. </p><p>“Megan Giry, you will stop this nonsense and tell me what is going on” Niamh roared, not utterly done with these girls. </p><p>Meg scoffed, but gave in. This argument wasn’t worth it, especially with the Comte’s new wife. “There is a ghost that haunts the Opera. He picks on the ballerinas, and set builders mostly. He also makes the managers pay him monthly”. Niamh nodded, content with the short explanation for now. What type of ghost required payment? Niamh collected her thoughts and began to move towards an open hallway. </p><p>“Where are the dressing rooms, it's getting late” it was almost one thirty in the morning at this point, way past the hour mark she had promised the man in front. Meg began walking, Niamh followed and little Jammes trailed behind them, terrified. </p><p>It was quite a walk, and by the time Niamh reached the hall of dressing rooms, she was beyond exhausted. Her leg throbbed uncontrollably, and her hand was beginning to ache from the cane. Niamh didn’t need to ask which dressing room she needed to see, she simply walked up to a door towards the end of the hall. It was wide open, and Niamh could see Raoul sitting on a settee, his head in his hands. </p><p>“Raoul darling, I think we should go” Niamh called softly. His head shot up, tears were streaming down his rosy cheeks. </p><p>“She’s not here” he cried. </p><p>“I know, we can try again in the morning”. With that Raoul rose from his seat, defeated, retreating to fight another day.</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Rage and Furstration</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Shouts could be heard from Phillippe’s office. He had been scolding Raoul for over an hour now. Niamh sat outside, begrudgingly waiting her turn. The carriage driver had turned them both in the instant they returned to the de Changy estate. </p><p>“I would have had him keelhauled” Niamh said after being summoned to her husband's office the next morning. This act of betrayal would never be forgotten. Niamh also made a note to secure her own staff within the house to prevent future acts of mutiny. The lady prized loyalty above anything else, it’s what kept her alive this long. </p><p>Raoul emerged from the office, his face flush with anger. His eyes were glued to the floor as he dashed for his room. Niamh sighed, and rose from her seat. It was her turn. She walked into the office to see Phillippe sitting at his desk, head in his hands. Niamh thought about how similar he and Raoul looked, acted and even talked. They were too similar, which put a strain on their already fragile relationship. Niamh slammed the door closed, waking Phillippe from his trance. She hobbled to his desk, and sat at a chair directly opposite from him. Her head was held high, daring him to raise his voice. </p><p>Phillippe noticed, and made an attempt to speak softly. “I know you were looking out for Raoul but I have expressly forbidden him from going to that Opera House without my presence”. </p><p>“That seems childish. He is a grown man, he can do as he pleases” she remarked. Her eyes bore into his, again daring him to lose his temper. </p><p>“He is still a child, uncultured and unknowing of the horrors of life” Phillippe grunted. </p><p>“Oh please, stop being so dramatic” Naimh hissed, now she was becoming irritated. </p><p>“I am not being dramatic” Phillippe roared, slamming his fists on the wooden top of his desk. “I know you have never cared about the status of your family, but that is important here”. </p><p>“It's only important if you think it’s important. Aristocracy is just another way to manipulate. Image is nothing”. </p><p>“Your image is nothing. We made a deal Niamh, you would stay out of my business and I stay out of yours. You have broken our contract”. Phillippe rose from his seat, and leaned over. HIs eyes boiled with rage. </p><p>“I have done no such thing, there is nothing about keeping my distance from your family in that document. You have been actively encouraging me to spend time with them. So I have”. Niamh followed, rising from her seat as well matching Phillippe’s tone. </p><p>“Don’t try to weasel your way out of this with semantics. You will follow the rules of my household or I will…” Phillippe cried before Niamh cut him off. </p><p>“You will do nothing. I don’t have to be here, you were the one who insisted on me living in this place” she hissed in return. </p><p>“I will end this arraignment”!</p><p>“Fine, then it's over. I don’t need you. If anything, our marriage only benefits you”. Niamh turned and began to walk to the door. She was done with this nonsense. Phillippe swiped the papers off his desk in a fit of rage before chasing after her. His broad hand grabbed her by the arm, dragging back towards him. </p><p>“We are not done here. You need me too” he hissed, his face inches from hers. </p><p>“For a bit of land? You aren’t worth the entire island of Britain”! She wacked him with her cane, causing his hand to release her. In her rage, she didn’t fully realize that she had a bad footing on the slick carpeted floor. She tumbled to the ground, groaning as she landed on her bad leg. Phillippe stood back, shocked by his actions. He quickly picked her back up, but was pushed away. </p><p>“Niamh…” he said softly, immediately regretting his actions. Phillippe was a proud man, who had never been challenged in his life. Niamh was also used to getting her way. They were two immovable forces, when they collided, disaster was not far behind. </p><p>“You will never speak to me like that again, do you understand. I am not one of your siblings, you will not order me around”. Niamh steadied herself, making sure that she had the proper footing to walk. </p><p>“Don’t indulge my brother”. </p><p>“Do not tell me what I can and cannot do”. </p><p>“If we are going to be married, there need to be boundaries”. Phillippe was insistent, he didn’t want Niamh flouncing around Paris with his younger brother. There were enough rumors about him at the moment. </p><p>“Then get it in writing”. This conversation was over, the both of them were not going to back down. Phillippe sighed, and turned to go back to his desk. Niamh took this opportunity to leave, and lock herself in her room for the rest of the night. </p><p>Five in the evening came like lightning. Niamh had been defiantly smoking in her room while finishing up some of her more stressful work. She liked work, it gave her a sense of purpose. She was currently in the middle of rerouting ships. Some needed shore leave, others simply requested different places and climates. Niamh was more than willing to accommodate her men’s requests as much as she could. They all did good work, she had no reason to deny them anything.  </p><p>All the while her thoughts drifted to the Opera House. She held her hand out of the window, making sure that her room didn’t fill with too much smoke. Papers littered her lap and the window bench. There was some man extorting the opera house, calling himself the ‘Opera Ghost’. All theaters had this type of lore surrounding them, but she had never seen one that actively gave its spirit an allowance. There had to be more to this than met the eye. On top of this, it was suspicious that Christine Daae had a mysterious music teacher than no one had ever seen. These two things had to be connected, she would bet her good leg. </p><p>These thoughts melted her anger. She now felt calm and collected, despite the fact that Phillippe was being a brat. A soft knock came suddenly, souring Niamh’s mood all over again. She angrily took another drag from her cigarette and bellowed, “What”!</p><p>Raoul's cherub face peaked from behind the dark wood, gazing at her mournfully. “I am not disturbing you, am I”. His voice was child-like. The mark of a true younger brother trying to appease a cross older sibling. </p><p>“No, I was just finishing some work. Come in, take a seat, if you can find one” she chuckled lightly. Her room, like the window bench, was covered in papers and maps. Raoul looked at them curiously, tracking red and black x’s with his eyes. </p><p>“Are these places you have been?” he remarked. </p><p>“Black x’s are the places I want to start trading. Red x’s are places I currently trade. Blue x’s are places I refuse to trade. There are only two to my current knowledge.” she replied, looking over another paper. </p><p>“I just wanted to say that I am sorry for getting you in trouble” the young man said sheepishly. </p><p>“Trouble? Raoul, darling, I am not a child. The only trouble I have been in for the past 15 years has been either sinking into the ocean or battling politics”. </p><p>“But Phillippe yelled at you”. The young man’s face was cast downward at his feet. </p><p>“He has yelled at me before, and probably will yell at me again. It doesn’t phase me” Niamh took another long drag from her cigarette before throwing it out of her window. </p><p>“Phillippe won’t like that” Raoul groaned. </p><p>“After what he said to me today, he’s lucky I don’t put it out in his eye” she hissed. There was a moment of quiet in the room as Raoul contemplated how to ask his next question. </p><p>“How do you know my brother”? Niamh sighed, placing the paper in her hand down on another pile of paper. </p><p>“We met in Berlin a few years ago”. The reply came swiftly and simply. </p><p>“And he courted...you?” Raoul stammered, unsure of how to phrase his question. He didn’t want to offend the steaming captain. </p><p>“More or less”. </p><p>“Why”? That question stung, she couldn’t tell him about the deal she had made with his brother. </p><p>“That is an excellent question. I am not sure”. In truth, she knew exactly why. Her and Phillippe had an affair in Berlin. This was not a secret she kept from anyone. They had their fun. Phillippe came to her with an issue, and they made an agreement. Phillippe was being pressured to marry by his Aunt and his brother’s disgrace. Niamh was hard pressed to find a husband for a parcel of land left to her estate by her late parents. It was meant to be a dowry, and was an excellent place to start her own dock. This portion of Ireland had no ports, this would create jobs for her people and lower the cost of their food. She wanted that land, but couldn’t touch it until she had wed. Phillippe agreed to sign the land over to her if she played dutiful wife for a few months. Just to appease his family.  It was pure business, and that’s how she liked it. </p><p>“I just don’t see why you would marry him!” Raoul cried, slamming himself down in her desk chair. “You are kind, educated and don’t need him”. </p><p>“Life is complicated, sometimes people do things and they are unsure why”. </p><p>“I know that feeling! I feel that way with Christine”. Niamh sighed once more, commiserating with her little brother-in-law. </p><p>“Darling, I am 35 years old. I have learned in my time that there are some things we just can’t stop. We simply have to roll with the waves”. Raoul looked at her, his frustration replaced with sadness once more. </p><p>“I am afraid you are here because of me. If I didn’t feel for Christine, Phillippe would have never needed to marry”. </p><p>“Raoul, I am not a prisoner. I came here of my own free will and I will leave if I am unhappy” Niamh cried. She was trying not to laugh at this foolishness. </p><p>“Do you promise?” Raoul sniffed. </p><p>“I cross my heart” she replied, holding a finger towards the sky. Raoul smiled, relieved in the fact that she was strong enough to deal with his dear older brother. </p><p>The room went silent again, neither of them making any attempt to converse. Niamh went back to her papers, and Raoul looked around her room, mesmerized. On her desk he noticed a picture. This was a man of about thirty, dressed in a fine suit. His hair was deep in color, and possessed the same piercing eyes as Niamh. His skin looked well-tanned, and his face was remarkably familiar. </p><p>“Is this your brother?” Raoul asked, taking a closer look at the picture. </p><p>“Yes, Crevan. My pain of a little brother” Niamh smiled. Raoul mimicked her smile, she obviously had a positive relationship with him. </p><p>“What is he like”?</p><p>“Oh, he is a great pain in my arse. Five years younger than me, he is the head of our great household. He is very tall, mostly expressionless, and he has the tongue of a feisty young man”. Niamh laughed, these memories brought her great joy. “My brother is also a prankster, his wife has scolded him many times for leading his children in ‘unsavory’ activities”. </p><p>“He is married”?</p><p>“Yes with four children”. </p><p>“Does he approve of Phillippe”?</p><p>“He doesn’t seem to care. If anything he is happy he now has an exact mailing address for me”. </p><p>“Your brother doesn’t care”?</p><p>Niamh stopped her scanning, and looked at her brother-in-law. This was Raoul’s attempt to get to know this near stranger he had met the day before. He liked her, and wanted them to be friends. Niamh cleared her throat, preparing to tell him her story. “When I was fourteen years old, Crevan was nine, our parents died. It was sudden, and threw our family into chaos. My parents trusted my Uncle to care for our estate, but he managed it poorly. I found out that we were broke, and would possibly have to sell our home to cover his costs. I wouldn’t allow that, so I ran away. I became a cabin boy on The Gale. It was an English trading ship. The captain was so drunk I don’t think he could have told up from down. I sent every ounce of money I could to Crevan, and he was able to maintain the household”. </p><p>“You did this to support your brother?” Niamh nodded fervently. “Then you started your own company”. </p><p>“Yes, when I was twenty. Our captain died, and with no relatives to inherit his ship, the crew and I decided to buy it. That was the beginning of my company. I paid the most, so I became the primary owner”. Niamh was uncomfortable speaking of her past. Other than her men, Phillippe was the only one she had ever told. </p><p>“Did your brother ever miss you”? </p><p>“Oh I am sure. I left not long after my parents died. I had no choice”. </p><p>“Will you tell me more”? Raoul sat there like a child hearing an interesting bedtime story from their mother. He was enthralled with the image of high sea adventure. </p><p>“Yes, come back tomorrow night. I will tell you more” NIamh smiled. She was getting tired, and it was becoming late. Sleep did not come to her easily, so when she was tired, she took advantage of it. </p><p>“Alright” Raoul said quietly, picking himself up from the chair. He bid her a good evening and scurried out of her room, afraid to get caught by a passing family member. </p><p>Niamh shook her head, also getting up from her seat. She wasn’t sure how to handle Raoul, he was like a small child. She understood why Phillippe was so protective of him. That naivete would be the death of that boy. She would have never guessed that this young man had ever been in the military. With that final thought, Niamh began to dress for bed. </p><p>As she sat on her bed, ready to try and snag a few hours of sleep, another knock came at her door.  “Yes?” she asked irritably. Without any hesitation, Phillippe quietly slid into her room, shutting the door silently behind him. He leaned on the door, his hands placed behind his back. Phillippe looked at her intently, but his face carried no emotion. </p><p>“What do you want? Come to try and put me in a worse mood” she scoffed, continuing to ready herself for bed. Phillippe said nothing, he merely pushed himself from the door and took a few steps closer. </p><p>“I wanted to see how your night has been,” he finally said, softly. </p><p>“My night has been fantastic” she replied, sarcasm dripping through every syllable. </p><p>“You shouldn’t go to sleep upset”. </p><p>“I am not upset, you can leave”. Phillippe eyed her desk chair and sat in it quietly. Now they were face to face. He had demonstrated that he would not leave until she talked to him. With an irritated cry, Niamh gave in. “I don’t know what more you want”!</p><p>“I want to talk,” Phillippe responded with a grin. </p><p>“Fine, what are we talking about”? </p><p>“Raoul came in here tonight?” Phillippe was staring off easy. </p><p>“The crime of the century, I know”. Ignoring her sarcasm, he went on. </p><p>“What did he say”? </p><p>“He asked some questions about my life, and I answered them”. Niamh didn’t understand his line of questioning. </p><p>“You didn’t tell him anything important did you”? Niamh’s glare was the only answer he needed. He put his hands up in a submissive position before saying, “I was just asking”.  </p><p>“Is that all”? </p><p>“No”. Phillippe rose from his seat, inching closer to her. Niamh’s eyes narrowed, she was now suspicious. </p><p>“You really aren’t going to back down?” Phillippe smiled broadly. </p><p>“No, I see no reason to back down. Boundaries my love”. Niamh smirked, taking her jab at him. </p><p>“Then we are at an impasse. Just try not to get Raoul killed”. Niamh realized that Phillippe was speaking in German, the language they shared, and no one else in the family knew. He really didn’t want to take the chance that someone would hear. </p><p>Phillippe finally made it to the bedside, and plopped down next to her. </p><p>“Do you think he is in danger?” Niamh asked, now questioning her own idea of this entire situation. </p><p>“I don’t know, but I am not going to take any chances”. Phillippe gazed at her softly. This was how she knew him. Like his younger brother, he was almost childish in his reaction towards her, usually. She scoffed in return, sitting herself against her headboard, allowing her leg to rest on the bed. She hadn’t had a moment to relax since she got to Paris. Her leg ached like no other. </p><p>“Is there anything else you would like to ‘talk’ about”. Her anger had melted away. There would be no forgetting his disrespect, but then again, she had done much worse to him over the years. Some of her more bold crew members had mentioned her apparent cruelness before. Niamh didn’t believe herself to be very cruel, but she could hold a grudge. </p><p>“No” his grin grew wider as his hand rested on her right thigh. His thumb rubbed against the cloth of her nightgown. </p><p>“Oh Jesus Christ, you must be kidding”. Phillippe laughed, he knew his appetites were known as insatiable. “I thought you good Catholics frown on intimacy before the wedding”? </p><p>“I thought you bad Catholic’s never listened to that trash anyway”? She pursed her lips in faux displeasure. Niamh was playing coy at this point, simply trying to frustrate Phillippe. “You are only here because I am accessible now”. </p><p>“Precisely, and there is nothing you can do to stop me”, he crooned huskily. Fingers rose to touch her face. Niamh could only chuckle, for all of his philandering, he wasn’t very romantic. </p><p>“Fine, but I hold the right to beat you roundly if you annoy me”. </p><p>“Deal”. With that Phillippe planted a kiss on her lips in anticipation of another long night.</p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Standing Your Ground</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next morning Niamh awoke to an empty bed. Phillippe had spent the entire night with her, and had left earlier. It was four thirty in the morning, the usual time she arose. The lady dressed quickly, deciding on what she was going to do for the day. Her mind still contemplated the incident at the Opera. This was something that truly interested her. Without hesitation, she walked out of her room and down to the foyer, relishing in the eerie quiet of the morning. She was used to much more hustle and bustle, so this was a welcomed change. Again she stopped, listening for the movement of any of the family. Instead she was met with the roaring voice of the head butler. Niamh followed the bellows to the source in the kitchen that sat below the house. Maids rushed around on the order of Dominick, the head butler of the de Changy household. They were working quickly to prepare the meals for the day. Niamh stood in the doorway quietly, watching the excitement with a grin plastered on her face. She had never seen a house this alive this early in the morning. A young woman noticed her and froze. With a stiff curtsy, the woman approached her meekly. </p><p>“C-can I help you Madame?” she sounded terrified. </p><p>“Yes, I was actually looking to grab something quickly. I have work to attend too outside of the house”. Niamh’s pleasant formality with her was unusual, the rest of the family never addressed the servants with such a tone, with the exception of the young Vicomte. </p><p>“Yes ma’am” without another word, the young woman ran off. Niamh took a few steps into the kitchen, watching another maid pluck a chicken in the corner. Her hands were quick and precise, tearing feathers from the unfortunate creature. Suddenly, the servant was back, handing Niamh a cloth. </p><p>“That was fast,” Niamh spoke, genuinely surprised. </p><p>“Much of the food isn’t ready yet, but I snagged a few pastries” the servant smiled, reveling in the compliment. </p><p>“What is your name”? </p><p>“Claudia, Madame” again the girl curtsied. She was a young woman of about twenty, with fiery red hair tucked under a white cap. Her dress and apron were already stained, it was obvious that she had little interaction with the family. </p><p>“Claudia, I usually rise very early to attend business. Would it be too much to ask if you would prepare something for me to take in the morning?” Niamh was delighted. She rarely asked for food at home, the servants Crevan hired were awfully slow. </p><p>“Me? Wouldn’t you like if one of the more senior staff prepared these things for you?” Claudia’s eyes darted around, trying not to catch the attention of any other staff, especially Dominick. </p><p>“I need speed. I don’t care about the presentation. You brought me something faster than any other servant I have asked, ever”. </p><p>“Claudia!” the roar of Dominick screamed through the kitchen. An older man, of roughly fifty, sped to the two. Claudia’s eyes widened with fear, as she shuffled back to the table she had been working at. The man stopped directly in front of her, bowing. “I am sorry Comtesse, did you need anything”? </p><p>“No, Claudia provided for me quite well” Niamh glazed at him, before turning back to Claudia. “I was just asking her to provide me with my breakfast in the morning”. </p><p>“But Madame, there are other, more skilled-” Dominick began, glaring at the young woman. </p><p>“-Servants who will slow me down. I know you are used to more docile women, but I require speed. Claudia will do”. This was non-negotiable, Niamh’s mind was made up. </p><p>“Please Madame, there is a certain way things are done here” the butler pushed. Niamh turned to him, her eyes dark. </p><p>“Don’t test me Dominick. My needs are specific, don’t assume to know my business” she growled, daring the man to challenge her again. His eyes flitted to the floor, mumbling an apology. “The next time you decide to assume you know better than I, we will be discussing it with the Comte. Claudia, please have my breakfast ready by five in the morning. I would also request that you make extra, I have some crew who often don’t get breakfast in the morning. It would please them greatly to have something”. Claudia nodded, returning to her work with a smile. Niamh gave the butler another stern look before retreating back to the foyer. </p><p>There was no mistaking, Niamh needed to leave this house. She was a woman, who had been a ship captain, and the owner of a large trading company. Yet she had never argued more in a household than she had here. Now she needed to relax, and there was only one place in Paris she could think of, the barge docks. Her cane clicked rhythmically as she headed out the door. </p><p>The cool morning air filled Niamh’s lungs as she exited her carriage. The murky waters of the Seine lapped at the hulls of many barges, they were being loaded for their journeys to the sea. Men littered the walkways, giving her glares as she passed. Her head was held high, she paid no mind to these superstitious men. It was ‘bad luck’ for a woman to be on the docks. It had taken many years, and many bribes for her presence to be tolerated in these places. There were a few places she still couldn’t be, even with bribery. She finally reached her docks, she knew this because men began shouting to her cheerfully. Her bright smile greeted them with the same cheer. The men of her company enjoyed their employer. They were paid very well, and supplied with enough work for them, even in the worst of times. </p><p>Finally she reached her barge office. She pushed open the water damaged door, revealing a man sitting at a desk, scribbling furiously. </p><p>“Hold on please” the man’s voice called in terribly broken French. </p><p>“Is that how you talk to your partner now?” Niamh’s voice replied in the man’s native German. His head bounced up with an annoyed glare. </p><p>“Bite me” he hissed irritably. “These books are completely wrong, I have spent the last two days fixing them”. Niamh strode to his desk and sat in a chair across from him. </p><p>“Iacob, the point of you coming here was to relax”. </p><p>“Vi, you don’t get married for another three days, enough time for me to correct this lunacy”. He motioned to the papers littering his desk. Iacob’s tousled brown curls were pushed out of his face, only to bounce right back. </p><p>“I recommend getting a haircut before entering the church. You may be chastised by some stuck up French priest” Niamh laughed, setting her cane against the desk. </p><p>“Like you, they can bite me”. With a frustrated grunt, Iacob put his pen down. “What can I do for you? I didn’t expect to see you here”. </p><p>Niamh played with the hem of her sleeve, debating on whether to tell her partner about her worries. “I needed to get out of that house”. </p><p>“Has his lordship pissed you off already?” Iacob snickered, folding his hands under his chin. His long, lanky limbs looked as if they would break under the weight of his head. </p><p>“Sweet lord, he’s worse at home” Niamh hissed. </p><p>“I told you” was Iacob’s only reply. His eyes studied her face intently, and her gaze refused to meet his. They had known each other for twenty years, and Iacob could tell when something was bothering her. “What trouble have you gotten yourself into”? </p><p>“Is it that obvious”? Her eyes finally met him as his face fell. His look was not amused. Niamh sighed and relayed the story of the night at the opera to him. Iacob sat back in his chair, drinking in this lunacy. </p><p>“Let me get his straight, your new brother-in-law is in love with the Opera Prima Donna who hasn’t been seen in a while. She had some mysterious music teacher who says that she cannot see him. There is also some madman running around this place, asking for an allowance that he gets every month?” Iacob was confused, this seemed like a simple problem. </p><p>“Yes, I have the sneaking suspicion that the Maestro and the Opera Ghost are the same person”. </p><p>“You have no evidence of any of this. For all we know she is trying to spare the Vicomte’s feelings because she loves her teacher. I certainly love the woman who introduced me to mathematics”. </p><p>“Your mother?” Niamh replied playfully. “I saw her Iacob. She didn’t look in love, she looked terrified. The conversation I had with her little friends didn’t make me feel good about this situation” Niamh sighed, Iacob was right, she had no evidence to support her theory. Unfortunately, the feeling in the pit of her stomach refused to budge. Something wasn’t right, and she was not the type of person to let injustice slide. </p><p>“Well, we can go investigate together” Iacob sighed back. “I need a break anyway”. </p><p>“Before we go, I need to ask a favor”. Iacob’s brow raised in anticipation. “Send a letter to Fife and Reza, tell them I need them here now”. </p><p>“Luckily for you Reza is already on his way from Spain. He didn’t want to miss your nuptials. Unfortunately Fife is with Juan Carlos in Brazil, it will take her some time to get here. They are scheduled for shore leave for the next two weeks”. </p><p>“Tell Fife to hop on The Anna Maria, they are going to Naples. She can find another transport to Paris. Spend the money you cheapskate, send her a telegram. Tell Mohammad he is in charge of The Lilac until further notice. The Zuma can last without a first mate for a while, just make sure Juan Carlos knows”. Another irritated sigh left the man’s lips as he wrote the instructions down. </p><p>“Why Fife and Reza?” Iacob questioned. </p><p>“I want them to be my eyes. I have an image to keep, so until I figure out what’s happening in this damn city, I need them”.</p><p>“Fine”. Iacob took another piece of paper from his desk and began drafting his letters. Niamh took her cane and rose from her seat, hissing as she stood. Iacob stopped, and gave her the meanest gaze he could muster. “You haven’t been doing any strenuous activity have you”? </p><p>Niamh blushed, and waved him off. “Of course not. Now quit your harping and meet me at the Paris Opera House in an hour”. With that Niamh was out the door, her mission clear. </p><p>The carriage pulled up to the Opera House, letting its passenger out at the steps. Niamh put on her most authoritarian stance as she strode past the day guard. He barely acknowledged her, he was too enthralled with his newspaper. She entered the grand hall. A couple of the cleaning staff acknowledged her presence, but didn’t know what to make of this stranger. </p><p>“Can I help you?” a man said curtly, placing his broom in the crook of his arm. </p><p>“Yes, could you please fetch me the owner of this establishment?” Niamh asked. </p><p>“Unfortunately the owner is no longer in the city, but I believe the manager M. Moncharmin is here. I could get him.” the man’s low, gruff voice spoke. Niamh nodded in approval before the man walked up the grand staircase to fetch the manager. </p><p>Niamh decided to investigate the hall once more, while she had the time. She made a beeline for the gap in the wall she had seen a few nights ago. It was gone. This disturbed her greatly, crevasses didn’t just disappear.  She reached out to touch the place where it had been and was only met with smooth marble. A cold shiver shot down her spine as she retracted her hand. This was not the first time she had seen an authentic hidden doorway. There were many on her family’s estate, but they went out of fashion long ago. This was a modern building with no need for this type of secrecy. She would expect this on stage, but not in the opulent entrance of a theater. Her gaze quickly left the wall and wandered back to the lone woman scrubbing the staircase. Her movements never stopped but her eyes gazed at Niamh with intensity. Niamh, ignoring this gaze, walked the length of the entrance, looking for more doors. She found none, but kept that one in the back of her mind. </p><p>Minutes passed, and before she knew it, she had been standing there for a little under an hour. Iacob made his entrance to an irate partner. </p><p>“So what’s going on?” he asked, calling to her in English. Iacob spoke three languages, English, German and Spanish, his French could be, at best, described as poor. Niamh was thankful, she wanted their conversation to remain as private as possible. </p><p>“I think I found something, but I am not sure yet. I asked for the damn manager an hour ago, but he has been taking his time” Niamh hissed. Iacob looked at her in confusion, Vi was not a patient woman, yet here she was waiting. He looked and saw the set of stairs leading up to the theater. A smile grew, as he looked at his dear friend. </p><p>“Your greatest enemy?” he laughed. Niamh scowled and swung her cane at him. His slender frame slid out of her way with ease. He gazed down at her like a child in need of an older sibling's help to reach a high cabinet. “Apologize and I may help you”. </p><p>“Fine, I am sorry. Now help me” she hissed. Iacob held out his arm, leading her to the staircase. His height was emphasized next to the petite woman. Iacob’s stature was easily over six feet, while Niamh stood at just over five feet. </p><p>The journey up the stairs was an arduous one. Niamh’s leg was still giving her trouble from her last trek up them. When they reached the top, Niamh released Iacob, leaning on the banister to catch her breath. Iacob looked around, impressed with the grandeur of the place. </p><p>“This is more extravagant than I anticipated” Iacob gaped, tracing his fingers in a banister embellishment. </p><p>“Yeah, it’s great” Niamh huffed, rubbing her left thigh through her skirt. “Go an find that fucking manager for me”. </p><p>“Tisk, tisk, a lady should be cursing” his smug smile taunted her. </p><p>“Just do it Iacob” Niamh hissed. With a laugh, Iacob wandered down another grand hall. Niamh stood there, preparing herself for the next leg of her journey when she felt eyes on her. She turned to see a dark skinned man peeking around the corner of another darkened hall. Her brows furrowed as her pain was forgotten. She grabbed a hold of her cane, turning herself to this mysterious man. The moment he noticed he caught her eye, he turned and ran down the hall. Niamh took a deep breath before chasing after him. </p><p>This man knew the Opera well, but he was no match for the determined captain. Niamh followed him through halls, and down stairways, passing all manner of opera staff. She ran down, deeper and deeper into the bowels of the Opera House. Their footsteps echoed off of the stone walls before they finally stopped. The man had stopped in a stone room, waiting for her with his eyes trained on the doorway as Niamh ran through. She hadn’t expected him to stop, but was enthralled, she didn’t know how much longer she could have kept that pace up. </p><p>“What do you want?” the man hissed. His French was perfect, but it did have a familiar accent to it. </p><p>“To speak” Niamh huffed, leaning against the doorway. </p><p>“I have nothing to say to you”. His face was flushed with anger, he did not enjoy being chased. </p><p>“Who are you”? </p><p>“I could ask you the same. I have never seen you before”. </p><p>“My name is Niamh, I am the Comte de Changy’s wife” she replied with a gulp. This wasn’t out of fear, but out of pain. Her leg burned, running was not something she was used to anymore.</p><p>The man’s face softened as his eyes became wide. His face looked around in a panic before he charged towards her, grabbing her by the arm. He dragged her out of the room and back up. “You need to leave”. </p><p>“I will do no such thing” she hissed, pulling herself from this man’s grasp. “I have questions, what is your name”. The man stared at her intently, sizing her up for a fight if it came to that. </p><p>“Iman” he replied simply. Niamh nodded, also sizing him up for a brawl. “We can’t talk here”. </p><p>“Because of the Opera Ghost? Or as some know him, Maestro”? Iman’s face flushed with anger, as he once again took her arm and dragged her off. </p><p>“You know nothing,” he hissed. </p><p>“My point exactly, I want to know”. </p><p>“You have no idea what you are speaking of. There are things some shouldn’t know”. Niamh once again tore him off of her, grabbing for the top of her cane in anger. She did not like being talked down too. </p><p>“Then tell me” she roared. </p><p>“I cannot” Iman replied softly. His approach was getting him nowhere, so he relented. He would talk to this woman briefly. </p><p>“Why”? </p><p>“He would not like it” came the reply. His eyes darted around, causing Niamh to follow suit. She had no idea what he was looking for, but it terrified him. </p><p>“The Ghost?” was the only thing that left her mouth before a voice boomed. </p><p>“Curiosity killed the cat”! The voice could not be traced, it seemingly came from everywhere and yet, nowhere. Niamh’s gaze rested back on Iman, her eyes like needles on his skin. </p><p>“But satisfaction brought it back” she crooned in her native tongue. Iman looked at her with fear and curiosity. Their time to speak was over, Iman ran off down another hallway nearby, leaving Niamh to find her way back up on her own. </p><p>“Where on Earth have you been?” Iacob hissed. A mousey man glowered behind him, tapping his foot against the finely polished marble floor. “This man is insufferable”! Niamh gazed tiredly at her comrade, not even glancing at the other man. </p><p>“I will explain later” her voice came softly as she turned to the mousey man. “I assume you are M. Moncharmin”? </p><p>“Yes, who are you?” he squeaked angrily. “Obviously someone who doesn’t know the value of time”. </p><p>Niamh was done, she was in too much pain to be diplomatic. “Monsieur, you obviously don’t know to whom you speak. I am Lady Niamh Costlow, the wife of the Comte de Changy” she hissed sourly. All at once this man’s angry glower dropped, and he began to chitter nervously. </p><p>“F-forgive me Madame. Yes, I am Richard Moncharmin, one of the managers of this fine establishment”. </p><p>“This place must be in great need if it has staff like you” Niamh roared. “I am here to procure the last known address of the owner”. Moncharmin stared curiously, and then his expression divulged back into fear. </p><p>“Madame, there is no need for that. I-” Niamh cut him off with a swift raise of her hand. </p><p>“I wish to buy this place” she hissed. For all of Iacob’s lack of talent with the French language, he understood that. </p><p>“What, are you insane Vi?” Iacob cried, placing a hand on his head in frustration. He returned to his native language in his shock. </p><p>“We can talk about this later” she growled, before turning her attention back to Moncharmin. </p><p>“The de Changy estate would like to purchase the Opera?” the manager questioned. </p><p>“No, the Costlow estate would. We can afford it”. Niamh couldn’t help but publicly take a jab at her new husband’s name. The anger that had melted away last night, was now drudged back up in her irritability. </p><p>“Yes Madam, I will find that for you right away” Moncharmin cried before scurrying off. </p><p>“Niamh what are you thinking” Iacob cried, grabbing her shoulders.</p><p>“My interest has been piqued, Iacob. I will figure out what is happening here, even if it kills me”.</p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Man and Captain</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Niamh trudged through the door of her home, so tired she wasn’t sure if she could make it. It was past ten in the evening. After Moncharmin brought her the address of the owner, she spent the rest of her day convincing Iacob that buying the Opera House wasn’t a bad idea. </p><p>“Do you realize that theaters are not exactly money making investments. There is a reason they ask for patronage Vi”, Iacob screamed at her back at the barge office. </p><p>“If things go sour, I can auction everything off. It’s not a problem” Niamh retorted wearily. </p><p>“And you just expect the company to pay for this I bet”. </p><p>“Take it out of the fund for my new ship, I don’t plan on leaving Paris until I get to the bottom of this”. Iacob groaned as his head hit the desk with a comical thud. Niamh’s personal ship had blown up a number of years ago. She had been saving to buy a new one for after she married.  </p><p>“You will be the end of me Vi” his muffled cry called to her. </p><p>She had placated her high strung friend, and was now trudging up the stairs to her room. She threw open the door, and shut it with a weary hand. Niamh changed quickly and laid down. Her body resisted any movement but her mind raced. Today had been an exciting day for her, much more than the last few years had been. As her mind began to slow, a knock came at her door. She sat up, huffing with displeasure. With a groan she slid herself off of her bed, put on her dressing gown and answered the door. Raoul stood there, his eyes pleading with her to let him in. Without hesitation she moved just enough for him to slip in, before shutting the door behind him. </p><p>“I am sorry, I just wanted to talk to you. Phillippe has gone out, so I wanted to keep you company” Raoul said bashfully. Niamh waved the comment off before getting back into bed. ‘Phillippe has gone out’ was morally upright aristocrat speak for ‘he was with his mistress’. The pained look on her face concerned the young man. “Are you unwell”? </p><p>“I have just exerted myself a little too much today” Niamh replied, leaning on the headboard of her bed. She gazed sleepily back at her little friend, who had sat in her desk chair. </p><p>“Oh, so your leg hurts” Raoul shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “How did you hurt your leg”? This was a question Niamh had seen coming the moment she saw Raoul. He was the curious type, but he had little tact when asking about such matters. </p><p>“Well, it’s a long story, but I have time to tell it” she sighed, her hand unintentionally rubbing her leg. “About three or four years ago I was on a ship called The Bombay. We were headed to the Philippines with a boatload of gunpowder. Some idiot accidentally set off a barrel. The ship exploded, and killed the majority of the crew. I was thrown off the ship and straight into a splintered piece of the deck. It pierced my leg, right in the middle of my left thigh”. </p><p>“How did you survive?” Raoul asked eagerly. </p><p>“A few of the locals saw the ship explosion. We weren’t far from the shore of a small island. We were there for 3 days before a passing ship noticed the wreckage and found us”. There was no more to this story that Nimah wanted to divulge. It was a story she had been told later on. The only thing she remembered was the sound of the explosion, the cries of her men, and the people who had saved her. Beyond that, Iacob had to relay the story. He had been there too, and was relatively unscathed when he hit the water. </p><p>Raoul nodded, accepting the end of her tale. “I can’t imagine that,” he said with a shudder. “You are lucky you did not die”. </p><p>Niamh shrugged, “ I just so happened to be on board with my partner, Iacob. He was a ship's surgeon when we first met. He patched me up until help arrived”. </p><p>“Iacob?” Raoul questioned. </p><p>“Yes, he’s my partner and friend. I have known him since I was fourteen” Niamh stated flatly. Her relationship with Iacob was sacrosanct, and not something she talked about easily. </p><p>“I would like to meet him some day”, Raoul’s dreamy smile lingered on his face. </p><p>“You may have the opportunity tomorrow” Niamh groaned as pain overcame her once more. The man jumped up from his chair, looking around furiously. He had no idea what to do. “Could you do me a favor darling”? </p><p>“Yes, anything” Raoul sniffed, eager to help Niamh. </p><p>“Tomorrow morning, could you possibly fetch Iacob for me? He will be at my office on the barge docks. He is there from about five in the morning to very late at night so you won’t miss him”.</p><p>“Yes ma’am”, he cried, saluting her. Niamh smiled, shaking her head at his childishness. </p><p>“His French is very poor, so you may want to address him in English. You can tell him that I think I may have caused some minor damage to my leg”. Raoul nodded once more, preparing to leave Niamh there to rest. They bid each other a good night, and Raoul left as quickly as he came. </p><p>Niamh sat back, allowing her eyes to close. There was going to be no sleep for her tonight. </p><p> </p><p>“Jesus Christ woman, I am banning you from movement until Friday” Iacob hissed in his almost perfect English so Raoul would hear his directions. Raoul had gone to get Iacob around seven in the morning, rousing the older man who had fallen asleep on his desk. By eight, Iacob had barged into her room, screaming about how “Irresponsible she was with her own health”.  </p><p>Niamh let him scream until his little lungs couldn’t scream anymore. Now he had resorted to hissing and spitting at her like an angry cat. He looked at her leg, poking and prodding the tender appendage until he was satisfied. Raoul, not wanting to seem improper, stood in the room with his back facing them. </p><p>“At this point Iacob, your thumbs will snap my last muscle” Niamh hissed as he felt around her leg. Raoul had caught a glimpse of the awful leg, committing it to memory. It looked flat, like someone had stepped on her thigh with a very large shoe. A jagged, pinkish scar covered her delicate skin. It was inflamed and raw looking. </p><p>“You deserve it. I have told you to be careful before”. Iacob flipped her skirt back down, smoothing it absently. “You were running weren’t you”? Iacob reverted to his native language to scold her once more. </p><p>“I have nothing more to say” Niamh hissed back in German. Iacob scoffed, eyeing her suspiciously. </p><p>“What happened at the Opera?” Iacob wasn’t about to let this go. Suddenly a knock came at her door. Iacob quickly stood, more out of modesty than fear. Phillippe opened the door, and gazed languidly at Iacob. Raoul stood these, frozen at the sight of his older brother. </p><p>“Raoul, Aunt Agatha should be here shortly. Could you wait for her downstairs” he quipped. Raoul nodded and hurried downstairs to await the arrival of his aunt. “Iacob”. Phillippe’s voice was stern, but pleasant. Iacob nodded in return, once again looking at Niamh with dissatisfaction. </p><p>“It looks like you might have torn a muscle, but I can’t be sure. No walking until Friday, you will end up doing more damage”. </p><p>“Has my wife injured herself?” Phillippe sighed, closing the door behind him. </p><p>“It’s nothing, I have been in worse pain” Niamh scoffed, sticking her tongue out at Iacob. Phillippe had always remarked that those two seemed like siblings. He knew Iacob had a daughter of his own in Berlin. She was a young woman, with a family of her own. </p><p>“That doesn’t mean you push past your limits Vi”. Iacob packed his things up quickly, trying to avoid the Comte’s gaze. He was not a fan of the arrogant Frenchman, believing him to be a bad influence on Niamh. They were far too wild together for Iacob’s more conservative sensibilities.  “Now if you will excuse me Comte, I have work elsewhere”. Iacob gave Niamh another glare before opening the door to leave. </p><p>“I assume you can find your way out Iacob?” Phillippe called sarcastically. When no answer came, his attention turned to Niamh. She couldn’t be bothered with his irritated eyes. She was more put off by the fact that she was bed bound until Friday. “You are going to purchase the Opera House”? </p><p>Niamh looked up at him, raising an eyebrow in curiosity. “Word travels very quickly for such a big city” she replied. </p><p>“Well my brother has made a name for himself there, people are bound to talk if my new wife decides to buy the property” Phillippe growled. Niamh chuckled, she was a bright woman, she could only guess what this was actually about. </p><p>“Please, this has nothing to do with Raoul. You are simply afraid I will take my hatred of you out on your mistress. La Sorelli, correct”? Phillippe stiffened, while Niamh knew the details of his affairs, he still feared that one day she would change her mind. This was not a woman he wanted hunting down the women he chose to spend the majority of his time with. </p><p>“I just want to make sure our agreement is still in effect” he hissed quietly. He didn’t like being called out like that. </p><p>“I have no interest in your Prima Ballerina” Niamh sniffed dismissively. </p><p>“Then why the Opera House”? </p><p>“I want it”. Phillippe walked to her and grabbed her face, forcing her to look at him with sour eyes. </p><p>“You never just want anything Niamh”. He was absolutely correct, but he didn’t need to know that. Niamh slapped his hands away, if she hadn’t been confined to her bed, she would have beat him. </p><p>“That maybe so but you are not entitled to that information” she said nonchalantly. </p><p>“Even if you are playing with my family’s reputation”? </p><p>“Even then. Now leave, I have been interrogated enough today” she hissed, waving him off. Phillippe stood there for a second, debating on whether he should press this matter. He decided against it, lest her rage encourage her to get up and cause her further damage. She was a strong woman mentally, but she was physically weak. He decided that the best thing to do was leave. With a nod, he exited the room, leaving Niamh to stew in her fury. </p><p>Friday came quickly. Raoul made a habit of visiting her nightly, since Phillippe was usually off with Sorelli. He would ask her questions about her life, and she would tell him a story or two before he went to sleep. The night before the wedding, Raoul came in later than usual. His face was molded into an expression of sorrow. Niamh had been reading a book, trying to occupy her time as much as possible. </p><p>“What’s wrong darling?” she asked as he plopped down in his usual seat. He said nothing for a moment, before meeting her gaze with a loud sigh. </p><p>“This is a stupid question, but have you ever wanted to help someone so badly it hurt, but they refused to let you”? Niamh laughed as the story of her captain on The Lilac came to her mind. </p><p>“Oh yes, I know the type” she howled, closing her book and placing it on her lap. </p><p>“What did you do”? </p><p>“Well for starters, I need to give you some background on him. A captain from one of my ships came from a very far away place in the east. He lived under the strict rule of a kind who set no boundaries for one of his young brides. Because he was the son of the king’s chef, he was constantly being harassed by this little devil. One day she struck his father for the ghastly crime of making food that was too hot. She killed him, and this captain struck back. He left the palace that day, and boarded one of my ships. He refused to tell me why he was so reluctant to go on shore when we were near his home”. Raoul gazed at the floor, listening intently to this tale. “This was not a man to refuse orders, so when he refused to take a shipment to the palace of said king, I told him that if he didn’t tell me why I would fire him. Harsh, but you have to understand that I cannot have a man rejecting orders on one of my ships. He explained this to me, and now I am perfectly happy to send him to the Americas or to Europe for his trade”. </p><p>“But how did you help him?” Raoul cried. </p><p>“Raoul, when someone doesn’t want to talk, you can’t force them. It was only in extreme circumstances that Reza broke his vow of silence. Give it time, Christine will talk to you” Niamh replied softly. Not pleased with this answer, Raoul rushed from the room, slamming the door behind him. </p><p>Niamh couldn’t sleep, pain kept her awake for hours. She had resigned herself to working and reading. The morning of her wedding, she awoke from her very turbulent sleep to a scream and a bang. Without thinking she sprang up, put on her dressing gown, grabbed her cane and hobbled out to see what the commotion was about. As she peered down the hall, she could see Raoul run from around a corner and straight into the arms of his elder sister, Victoria. Niamh quickly made her way to the two, looking for any signs of an intruder. </p><p>“Raoul what happened!” Victoria cried, her face pale from fright. </p><p>“In my room! There was the Opera Ghost!” he replied. Niamh could see his pistol quivering in his grasp. Victoria noticed as well, taking a few steps backwards to distance herself from the gun. Niamh shot forward, grabbing the pistol and prying out of Raoul’s hands. She handed it to Victoria, who held it in her outstretched hands, before she rounded the corner. Raoul’s door was wide open, letting a cool breeze waft from inside. The lady took the top of her cane and pulled. A small sword unsheathed itself, glistening in the low light of the hallway. It was still dark outside, and all of the candles in Raoul’s room had been extinguished. Niamh walked in carefully, peaking around furniture to make sure there was no one in the room. As her eyes adjusted to the low light, she noticed that gleaming specks littered the floor. Her foot pressed down on one of them, and the sound of a crack filled the room. It was glass. She looked at the window in front of her, and she could see that a few of the window panes were gone. They had been blown out of their frames, and lay in pieces on the floor. With the stealth of someone with two working legs, she approached the window. Originally she believed it was simply a floor length window, but upon further inspection she realized these were doors to a balcony. Her hand felt for the handle, and ended up pushing a door open when she realized they were unlatched. Another cold burst of morning breeze flooded the room. Niamh’s skin crawled with goosebumps as she stood on the balcony, furiously looking around. There was nothing there. Then she looked at her hand, which was now wet. She could make out the faint scent of blood. Something had been there at one point, and Raoul had shot it. She lowered her weapon, looking over the ledge to see if she could see anyone fleeing the scene. There was nothing. </p><p>“Niamh” Phillippe called for her from inside. Niamh turned and began walking back to the doorway, where Phillippe and another butler were waiting for her. Dominick the head butler held a lamp, which illuminated the room. Niamh could now see more clearly. Glass littered the floor, cracking under her slippered feet. </p><p>“Cometess, you shouldn’t-”Dominick began to scold, when Phillippe turned to him and hissed. </p><p>“Shut up. Niamh, what did you see?” Phillippe may have thought her fragile, but she was a well trained fighter. </p><p>“Nothing, there is no one here. If there was, they got away” she replied, standing proudly in front of her husband. Phillippe grunted, and led Niamh out of the room. They made their way around the corner of the hallway to see Raoul still in the arms of his older sister. Adelaide was now there, rubbing the sleepiness from her eyes. </p><p>“Raoul, see me in my office” Phillippe growled softly, continuing to lead Niamh down the hall and to her room. Niamh pulled away, and strode up to Raoul. She resheithed her sword, and began using it once more for its intended purpose. </p><p>“What did you see Raoul?” she asked, peering to the soul of the frightened man. </p><p>“I saw eyes. They were glowing yellow eyes. A man was at my balcony door. I grabbed my gun and shot at him. He must have been scared off”. </p><p>“It was a dream dear, you just had a dream.” Victoria crooned, patting the arm of her terrified sibling. </p><p>“Exactly, Niamh, come along” Phillippe hissed, grabbing her once more. Niamh conceded, allowing Phillippe to take her by the arm and lead her off. </p><p>“Phillippe, he saw something,” Niamh said, loud enough for the rest of the family to hear. </p><p>“Enough, it was just a dream” he retorted before shoving her into her room, and shutting the door behind him. Niamh sat on her bed, exhausted and worried. Phillippe glared at her before he began yelling, “I can’t believe you would indulge him in such foolishness Niamh”. </p><p>Niamh procured her hand where a small pool of dried blood laid on her fingertips. “This is not nothing Phillippe. He shot at something”. </p><p>“An animal probably!” he roared. </p><p>“And what if it wasn’t? You are just going to let this go that easily? I am not sure I feel safe if that be the case” she hissed. Phillippe’s hands curled into fists before they hit the wall next to him. A loud thud could be heard reverberating through the room. As he retracted his hand, a small trickle of blood could be seen dripping down his fingers. </p><p>“Enough. We have a wedding to attend, and I don’t want to hear any more of this nonsense” he cried, pointing a bloodied finger at her. </p><p>“Fine, but you should have that hand looked at. I can recommend a surgeon” Niamh replied sarcastically. Phillippe scoffed, finally noticing the injury on his knuckles. </p><p>“We leave here at seven, be ready”, and with that, he once again left the room. Niamh rolled her eyes in disbelief, what a way to start your wedding day. </p><p> Niamh and Phillippe were married in a small ceremony the same morning. There were few people to witness the nuptials. One the groom's side sat his Aunt Agatha, Raoul, Victoria, Adelaide and a few close associates who couldn’t stand to miss the fabled Phillippe de Changy wed. On the bride's side sat only three people. The impossibly tall Iacob towered over the rest of the guests by at least a few inches. A well-groomed man with dark skin sat next to Iacob. He was an imposing figure, stern and proud. His finely trimmed beard added to his imposing face. Lastly was a young man of about thirty. His dark down hair complimented his well tanned skin. He had the air of a lord, making the dark skinned man next to him look almost like a child. </p><p>After the wedding, the bride and groom spent a few minutes talking to their guests before departing. There would be no celebration, and that’s how the couple wanted it. As they stood outside the church, Niamh had a word with her three guests while Phillippe charmed his associates. </p><p>“Well, my captain is now a wife,” the dark skinned man smiled. </p><p>“Bite me, Reza” Niamh hissed irritably. </p><p>“Now, now Vivi, mother wouldn’t like that language” the lordly figure howled. </p><p>“Crevan I swear to the lord almighty I am not in the mood”. The three men glowed in the irritation of the small woman. They all believed she looked like a small child, pouting at her own communion. Her white dress was far more ornate than anything she had ever worn. The fashions of Queen Victoria of England did not suit the woman. Her skin looked even more tanned against the starched white fabric. The lace itched on her arms and neck. Thankfully, her refusal to wear a veil was taken seriously. The entire wedding dress idea was Phillippe’s, and he made sure it was as uncomfortable as possible. </p><p>“Vivi, what’s going on? Iacob has told me some disturbing things” Crevan spoke a very unfamiliar tongue. It was unlike anything anyone there had heard. If Iacob and Reza hadn’t known the origin of this language, they would have believed it was entirely made up. </p><p>“Don’t worry. I know what I am doing” Niamh replied in the same language. </p><p>“Please be careful, I worry”. Niamh nodded at her little brother, taking his concern to heart. </p><p>“Iacob, Reza, I plan on stopping by the barge office. Meet me there in a few hours” Niamh commanded. Both men nodded their heads before walking off into the streets to catch a cab. </p><p>“Your new husband has graciously allowed me to join you for lunch” Crevan was back to his odd language. He took his sister by the arm, and began walking her to the larger party. </p><p>“Oh, how lovely. Another chance for you to lord over him” Niamh said sarcastically. “Maybe you can convince him to start beating me. I would really love to dispose of him, but I need a legitimate reason”. </p><p>“My sweet sister, you kill them slowly. I can recommend a good apothecary”. They giggled at their little inside joke. </p><p>“I am glad you came. How are Xeina and the children?” Niamh asked.  </p><p>“They miss their dear Aunt and her loads of presents” Crevan laughed. Nimah had a particular fondness for her brother’s children. He had four, with one more on the way. Since Niamh had made a solemn vow to never have children herself, she doted on Crevan’s children with all of the motherly instinct she had left. </p><p>“Iacob showed me a note he received from a young Persian man today. He said that there was an address and a name attached to it” Crevan whispered unnecessarily, none of the Frenchmen in the group could understand him. </p><p>“I will kill Iacob for not telling me sooner” Niamh smiled warmly at an associate of Phillippe’s who congratulated her. </p><p>“A wedding day is important, he believed you were stressed enough” Crevan gave a head nod to Agatha, acknowledging the aging woman for her rank. </p><p>“We can talk more about this later. You are getting me out of the house the moment lunch is over” Niamh hissed, returning to French for the sake of the guests.</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Helpless</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The lunch was tense. It was obvious that the de Changy clan was much more formal in their everyday interactions with one another. Phillippe sulked at the head of the table, he was still stuck in his foul mood from earlier. Victoria, Adelaide and Agatha spoke little, choosing to push the food around on their plates. <br/>“Lord Crevan” Raoul began, staring intently at the man sitting in front of him. </p><p>“Please, just Crevan. I don’t like formality at the table” Crevan said slyly, giving Phillippe and Agatha quick glances. A mischievous smile covered his face, daring them to defy his lordly request. For all the Costlow children hated aristocracy, they knew how to weaponize it amongst fellow gentry. </p><p>“Crevan” Raoul replied with a smile. “Was your journey good”? </p><p>“Oh yes, my sweet sister sent a ship to Ireland just for me” he smiled pleasantly. Niamh rolled her eyes. </p><p>“I hardly think you boarding a ship already bound for Marseille can be considered me sending a ship JUST for you” Niamh quipped. </p><p>“You did tell me that it would be there if I chose to come. I find it insulting that you think I wouldn’t be here for my big sister’s wedding day” Crevan laughed. Again, Niamh rolled her eyes at her brother’s foolishness.  </p><p>“You two seem close,” Victoria mentioned from her place next to Raoul. </p><p>“Surprising, isn’t it”? Niamh took her own personal jab at her brother, gazing at him playfully from her seat next to him. </p><p>“How so?” Raoul asked, now insanely interested in their dynamic. </p><p>“After mother and father died, Niamh provided for me. She never stopped working to make sure that our estate was well cared for. I can never repay her for the things she did”. Crevan’s tone shifted, he was indeed grateful to his sister. His current life was made possible by her. </p><p>“Lord Crevan, you have a wife and children?” Agatha remarked, ignoring his request for the table to address him informally. </p><p>“Yes, four children, and my wife, Xenia, is currently pregnant. She is due in a little over a month”. </p><p>“Xenia is an unusual name” Agatha was now on the offense. </p><p>“Yes, she is from Moscow”. Craven's bright blue eyes bore into the older woman sitting to the right of him. He didn’t understand this line of questioning. </p><p>“It’s unusual for someone from Ireland to tan so well” Agatha remarked, picking at her food. Niamh furrowed her brow, she was confused as well. Yes they were both well tanned, but this conversation had seemingly come from nowhere. </p><p>“Aunt Agatha, I think this conversation is over” Phillippe hissed. Now the entire table was intrigued, Phillippe and Agatha knew something the rest did not. </p><p>“Well that’s what happens when a father marries a native woman”. Niamh and Crevan looked at each other in shock. They had no words. They didn’t think anyone here would know that particular fact. Phillippe sighed, placing a hand on his head and leaning back. </p><p>“What do you mean native woman!” Adelaide cried. Crevan glared at Agatha, ready to pounce on her frail frame in a fit of rage. </p><p>“Well, since Agatha so boldly brought this up, I feel you all have a right to know” Crevan hissed, turning his gaze to Agatha. The elderly woman recoiled, his eyes were an intense blue fire, burning her skin. “My father visited Mexico in his younger years. He fell in love with a native woman. He married her, and they subsequently had my sister and I”. </p><p>“The bitch has a tongue” Niamh hissed in that same unfamiliar tongue from the wedding. </p><p>“Leave it be, I can deal with her” Crevan replied in the same language. </p><p>“What in the world are you two speaking! It sounds made up!” Adelaide was in a frenzy, this was too much information for her. </p><p>“It's a native Mexican language called Nahuatl,” Niamh replied. “My brother and I are fluent in it. It was the native language of my mother”. </p><p>Agatha turned to Phillippe, her face red with fury. “How could you do this to our family! A native! No wonder she is so wild”. </p><p>Crevan stood abruptly, he was not going to let this woman slander his dearly deceased mother. “Agatha d’Albret, sister of the late Henri de Changy. The woman who couldn’t have a child so she adopted street urchins and called them her own”. Crevan’s smile was wicked, as the rest of the de Changy clan, with the exception of Phillippe, looked at her wildly. She shrunk in her seat, terrified. </p><p>“You mean cousin Henri isn’t really your son?” Victoria cried. </p><p>“No. She has no biological children” Niamh’s smile mimicked her brothers as she took a sip of her drink. </p><p>“Don’t think my heritage had prevented me from doing research of my own Agatha. Don’t think that I approve of my sister marrying into a family of liars and hypocrites”. Crevan's rage could be tangibly felt in the room. The family was silent, as Crevan continued. “If this gets out Agatha I will personally hold you responsible. I will ruin your family in every circle I can. That is a promise”. Crevan hissed as he leaned down, his face inches from Agatha’s. WIthout another word he left the table and stormed out the front door. </p><p>The family was quiet, shocked at his outburst. Niamh smiled in wicked delight at the downward looks of Aunt Agatha and Phillippe. She rose from her seat, a smile still on her lips. “I should probably go and calm my dear brother. He has a temper to match my father”. With that she excused herself, walking after her brother. She was in no rush. </p><p>“I can’t believe those arrogant jackasses. How could Vivi marry into such a disgusting set of people, all for a parcel of land!” Crevan roared. Iacob smiled with delight, his hands placed under his chin. Crevan had run to the only friendly place he knew in the entire city of Paris, his sister’s barge office. Reza and Iacob sat there listening to the little Costlow rage. </p><p>“Niamh knows what she is doing,” Reza said softly, taking another sip from his cup of tea. </p><p>“I don’t know how my sister hasn’t killed that horses arse”. Iacob shrugged, giving the Earl a playful look. </p><p>“She almost has. Only I am privy to what went on in Berlin” Iacob smiled. </p><p>Crevan scoffed, folding his arms over his chest with a pout. “I should tell her to try harder”. </p><p>“Just give me time Van, I will get to him” Niamh laughed, her cane pounding rhythmically on the wooden floor. Reza and Crevan turned to see Niamh smirking in the doorway. </p><p>“Successful wedding lunch, Vi?” Iacob was on the verge of hysterical laughter. </p><p>“I should say so. Now I can be a heretic in peace”. Reza rose from his seat, offering it to Niamh in a gesture of respect. Niamh nodded thankfully, sitting with a groan. She still wasn’t one hundred percent from her jog a few days go. </p><p>“Just let me know if that vile woman gives you any trouble. She will never be welcomed outside of France again” Crevan hissed. He would make good on his word, to the point of overkill.</p><p>“Calm yourself Crevan, I will be fine. They are annoying but not dangerous”. Niamh’s gaze shot to Iacob, who sat up straight in surprise.  “Iacob, what’s this I have heard about a letter you received today”? </p><p>Iacob shot Crevan an evil look. “Thanks for turning me in Van” Iacob hissed. Reaching into his desk drawer, Iacob produced an envelope. He handed it to Niamh, who immediately took out the letter and read it. It had only an address on it on Rue de Rivoli, and Iman’s name signed at the bottom. “A young man named Darius brought it by last night”. </p><p>“And you didn’t tell me why?” Niamh hissed throwing the letter on Iacob’s desk. </p><p>“You would have tried to leave your bed. I couldn’t do that as a competent medical professional” Iacob replied swiftly. Niamh scoffed, leaning back in her seat. </p><p>“When is Fife set to land”?</p><p>“In a week and a half, she caught The Persephone in Brazil. She is headed straight for Paris”. </p><p>“Good. See if there are any vacancies in Rue de Rivoli. Make sure you look in the same building as Iman. Reza, you have priority, if you find an apartment in the same building, you take it. Iacob, what’s being done about the purchase of the Opera House”?</p><p>“The owner is keen on the idea of selling it. I am hashing out the details but you should have ownership by the end of next week”. </p><p>“Excellent” Niamh was ecstatic, everything was coming together. </p><p>“What is your plan Captain?” Reza inquired. </p><p>“I want to catch this Opera Ghost. His reign of terror has gone on long enough” Niamh hissed with delight. Crevan raised his eyebrow, he was interested in his sister’s glee. </p><p>“Opera Ghost? Jesus Vi, you are out of your damn mind” Crevan scoffed. </p><p>“Maybe, but I need something to do while I am stranded here”. </p><p>“Thankfully I leave this hellhole in the morning”. </p><p> </p><p>Niamh had returned home to a silent house. The only thing that could be heard was the clicking of her cane on the marble floor, and a grandfather clock in the parlor. She made her way into her room, relishing in the peace. With any luck, Phillippe would be too upset to bother her for the next few days. The lady sat at her desk, poised to write a letter. She wrote to a comrade who should be in Marseille within the next few days. Beau was a captain with a different company, but they knew each other well. As a native Frenchman, she asked if he knew anything about this situation at all. He was an older gentleman who had been around the bend a few times. She completed this letter, sealing it well for mailing the next day. As she did this, her door opened without a knock. Phillippe stood there practically foaming at the mouth. He was angry, more angry than she had ever seen him. The door shut with a soft thud as Phillippe entered. </p><p>“Something on your mind?” Niamh asked passively as she wrote her intended contact’s name on the envelope. </p><p>“Your brother humiliated me,” he hissed. </p><p>“It’s not Crevan’s fault your Aunt is a raging bitch” Niamh sneered. </p><p>“He had no right making threats like that”. </p><p>“And your Aunt had no right butting into our business”. </p><p>“My Aunt was looking out for the welfare of our family, rightly so”. </p><p>“By airing out my family’s dirty laundry in front of the whole family? Face it, she is a lying bitch who got what she deserved”. Nimah was now in a full blown rage, as was Phillippe. </p><p>“You have disrupted my whole existence with your nonsense. Buying that stupid Opera House…” Phillippe began, inching closer to her in his rage. </p><p>“Being something other than a French fop. Heaven forbid I have heathen in me” Niamh hissed, rising from her seat. “You knew well before our arraignment Phillippe. You have no one to blame for that than yourself”. </p><p>“You told me no one knew”!</p><p>“I said no such thing! Plenty of people in Ireland knew, my mother was a town legend after all.” Niamh’s voice softened at the memory of her dearly deceased mother. </p><p>“Your mother was a native whore who married well above herself”. Phillippe was now simply speaking to hurt his new wife. He had already forgotten his point. </p><p>“Oh and your parents were absolute saints. Lest you forget my darling husband, your father was just as much of a philanderer as you. Your mother could have cared less but that’s fine because she was a French woman, right?” Niamh hissed, grabbing her cane. Phillippe’s eyes darkened, his hand rose and Niamh prepared to defend herself. With the speed of a viper, Phillippe grabbed her arm, pulling her to him.</p><p>“You don’t know anything” he roared, his face close to hers. Niamh didn’t flinch, facing him with all the rage she could muster. With a quick flick of her wrist, she smacked him in the knee with her cane. He released her, yelling in pain. </p><p>“Get out, before I make you”. Niamh was finished, she was ready to kill. </p><p>Phillippe quickly recovered, turning his hate filled gaze to her.  “This is my house, and I can be where I want”. </p><p>“Then I don’t have to be here” Niamh quipped, and attempted to walk past him. He grabbed her by the waist, holding her in place. </p><p>“No”. </p><p>“That wasn’t a request”. Niamh turned to him and swung her cane again. Phillippe grabbed it and threw it to the other side of her room, well out of reach. </p><p>Niamh held onto Phillippe’s arm, digging her long nails into his skin. If there was one thing she absolutely despised, was someone touching her cane. It was her lifeline, the only way she could move without fear. Standing and walking on her own were things she could do, but they came at a cost. She couldn’t move very quickly, she also could only move in short bursts. It was like having a ghost limb, she felt that it was a normal limb, without any limitations. When commanded to walk, it was as if it couldn’t quite figure out how. On top of this, pain wracked the whole leg, making her mobility worse depending on what she did that day. Currently, her leg was still upset at her sprint a few days prior. Her injury extended to her knee as well, it was stiff also refusing to bend on command. This made for a catastrophic combo, leaving her helpless when she lost grip of her cane. </p><p>She watched as her cane clacked to the floor. This was the most horrendous thing that had been done to her in years. With all of the strength she could muster, Niamh shoved Phillippe away and grasped at the back of her desk chair, holding herself there. Phillippe stood nearby, contemplating on what his next move should be. </p><p>“I am confining you to the house for the time being” he hissed. </p><p>“If you even attempt to do that, I will make sure your entire family suffers” she growled, daring him to make another move. Phillippe had decided he would take her cane, just to make sure she didn’t get any bright ideas. Niamh saw this move coming. As he made a dash for the item, she slammed her body into his, causing them both to tumble to the floor. With a swift kick of her right leg, she hit him in the stomach, causing him to double over. Without any furniture nearby, she could only crawl towards her precious lifeline. She was able to grab a hold of the top of her cane, before Phillippe grabbed her right leg and slid her back to him. With the skill of a high trained warrior, which she was, she pulled the small sword from its well crafted sheath and held it to his throat. Phillipe stopped, knowing that she could easily slay him where he knelt. For all of his arrogance, he had a clear understanding that she was a very capable woman. This filled him with a dread he had never felt with any other person. It’s what attracted him to her, that fear. It was a masochistic need to be with a person who looked so innocent, but in reality, was not afraid to kill. </p><p>“Niamh, don’t do anything foolish” Phillippe’s voice was now soft. He was now calm, and trying to defuse this situation. </p><p>“Get out!” Niamh screamed, with all of the force she could muster.</p><p>“Just promise me you won’t leave”. Phillippe was now on damage control. His temper had devolved the situation to the level of violence. Niamh was not one to strike first, but she would surely land the final blow. </p><p>“Get out now!” she screamed, jabbing the point of her blade into his neck. Phillippe moved back, only sustaining a small cut in the soft part of his throat. Without another word, he rose from his position on the floor, and exited the room. Niamh saw red, she would make him pay in every way possible and she knew just where to start.</p>
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<a name="section0008"><h2>8. New</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Two weeks went by, and Niamh and Phillippe saw little of each other. Really, she saw little of the entire family. The tension in the de Changy household was thick, especially since their discovery of their Aunt’s adoption of her six children. They didn’t know what was real anymore, and the siblings resented their older brother for keeping a secret like that from all of them. </p><p>Niamh busied herself with the acquisition of the Opera House. Making sure that every detail was scrutinized in its entirety. On the day she obtained the deed to the place, her and Iacob went over the books together. </p><p>“Sweet Jesus, there is so much wasted money here!” Iacob would cry every so often. The managers M. Moncharmin and M. Richard spent copious amounts of money on their own salaries, the salaries of their personal staff, and a few key stars. There was also a ridiculous amount spent on gala’s. </p><p>“No wonder this place was so cheap” Niamh sighed from her position at the desk opposite Iacob. They had taken over the manager's office, kicking them out for the day and telling them not to return until tomorrow. </p><p>“Yes, you had a real stroke of luck there” Iacob cackled. The sheer amount of work from the last few hours had maddened the German. Niamh shot him a concerned glance as she puffed on another cigarette. “Give me one of those Vi”. </p><p>Niamh tossed her silver case to him, and he quickly took one out. With a match strike and a contented sigh, the smoke in the room doubled. A knock came at the door, before the secretary for the managers, Remy, slipped through. </p><p>“Madame, the box keeper can come to see you about…” Remmy paused, not sure how to broach the subject with his new employer. </p><p>“Yes, yes the Opera Ghost thing. I already know” Niamh scoffed, continuing her work. </p><p>“What’s going on?” Iacob whispered, his eyes not leaving Remy. </p><p>“The box keeper is here to talk about the Ghost’s salary”. </p><p>“Are you going to give it to him”? </p><p>“Over my Nan’s corpse” Niamh scoffed, returning to French for her reply. “Send her in”. Remy nodded, closing the door to retrieve the box keeper. </p><p>“Does anyone know we are here yet?” Iacob sighed. </p><p>“No formal announcement has been made but rumors have been circulating” Niamh’s mischievous smile made Iacob sigh loudly. The chittering of the box keeper could be heard in the hall, stopping once Remy opened the door for her. A short, stout woman walked in with the air of a queen. Her obnoxiously feathered hat bounced as she walked in. All at once she gasped in surprise, not expecting to see stranger’s in the manager’s office. </p><p>“Can I help you?” Niamh asked, eyes still trained on the paper’s in front of her. </p><p>“Yes Madame, I am looking for M. Moncharmin. He and I have some business to discuss” her shrill voice spoke with an air of haughtiness. She talked as if she was sent by Queen Victoria herself. </p><p>“Well Madame, I believe you have found someone in a better position to discuss business. I am Comtesse de Changy, the new owner of this establishment”. Niamh cringed inwardly, she hated having to say her new title, it made her feel dirty. She looked up from her papers, eyes trained on the woman in front of her. </p><p>“New owner’s?” she gasped with an overly dramatic gesture. “D-did M. Monacharmin give you any...instructions”? The woman asked warily. </p><p>“No, they will still be the managers here. I am simply doing some housekeeping” Niamh’s gaze went back down to her work. The room was silent for the moment, the older woman gazed at Niamh, not knowing how to brooch the subject of the Opera Ghost. Niamh’s voice then filled the room with her commanding crack. “You can tell the Opera Ghost he will not be receiving his money”. </p><p>“Excuse me”? The woman’s wide-eyed look shot to Iacob, who couldn’t tell what was going on. He knew this woman was frightened, and Niamh was the direct cause. </p><p>“I will not pay twenty thousand francs a month for nothing. If he wants the money, he will have to do something worth twenty thousand francs”. </p><p>“How do you know…” the woman’s voice trained off in disbelief. </p><p>“I keep close eyes on my prospects Madame Giry, mother of Megan Giry” Niamh hissed looking at the woman once more. “You can tell the Opera Ghost that if he wants to work for me, he is welcome, but I will not be handing money to him for nothing. You can go now”. Niamh waved Madame Giry off, returning to her work once again. Madame Giry stared at her for a minute, before retreating to relay her message. </p><p>Niamh caught Iacob up on the conversation, and he was not amused. “Jesus Vi, you just have to cause trouble for everyone”. </p><p>“Of all people Iacob, I would think you would be thrilled at the prospect of not paying that ridiculous sum to a madman”. </p><p>“Vi, I have talked to a few of the German speakers here. They are terrified of this man” Iacob cried. </p><p>“All the more reason to cut him off at the quick” Niamh sighed irritably. She threw her papers to the desk, irritated. She was not going to get any more work done in these conditions. </p><p>“You better know what you are doing” he hissed, following her suit. </p><p>“I like to think I do. Is Fife settled in?” Niamh wanted to change the subject. </p><p>“Yes, she plans on coming by sometime this afternoon” Iacob sighed. Niamh nodded, stretching her bad leg. A storm was brewing, her leg never lied. </p><p>Fife walked up to the stoney facade of her new place of work. Her smile was bright and vivacious, she had never been to Paris. Besides the strange looks she got walking down the street, it had been wonderful. She had been in Paris for a little over three days, having seen some delays in her travels. It was nice to finally be on dry land, even if that land was a little pretentious. Her sunny yellow dress was a stark contrast to her black hair and tanned skin. Her eyes were shining black gems that were hard to gaze away from. The bright disposition of her words were often cut by how curt she could be. Some called her rude but the men of The Juan Carlos called her honest. She liked that much better. </p><p>A woman walked up the steps of the Opera House, drinking in the bustle around her. As she had the door in her view, she noticed that Niamh’s carriage was parked in a nearby alleyway, where drivers congregated, waiting on their passengers. She also noticed a man, too well dressed to be any sort of street ruffian. The drivers were also unconcerned with the fact that this man was leaning against her employer's carriage. With no fear, she strode straight up to this young man, who went wide-eyed at her approach. </p><p>“Can I help you?” she asked, giving him a nervous smile. Fife was not a small woman, by any means. Yes, she stood at about five foot three, but she was built like an ox. Her frame was wide, and burly. She had taken on three men at once, and won. This woman was a force to be reckoned with. </p><p>“I-I am just waiting for my sister” he stammered. Fife cocked her head slightly at this response. </p><p>“She works in the Opera?” she asked, not willing to let this go. </p><p>“Yes” he said, standing straight. Fife sighed with relief, he was just a concerned brother. </p><p>“That’s fine, but you just so happen to be leaning on my employer's carriage. I would hate for her to come out here and see you” Fife replied brightly. </p><p>“You know Niamh?” the young man gasped. Now Fife was on alert, she had met NIamh’s brother before, and this man wasn’t him. </p><p>“Yes, and you are?” her eyes went dark, she was ready to take this man down if he made so much as one wrong move. </p><p>“I am her brother-in-law, Raoul” he smiled. Fife relaxed once more, he looked too soft to be an assassin anyway. </p><p>“I am Fife de la Sol, I am the first mate on The Juan Carlos”. </p><p>“You were in Brazil! How was it!” Raoul cried with delight. Fife was taken back by the sudden change in his tone. He was like a small child, and this intrigued Fife. This also made her inwardly roll her eyes. </p><p>“Yes I was, it was fine. I don’t care much for Rio de Janeiro but other smaller cities are wonderful. They remind me of home”. </p><p>“Where are you from”? </p><p>“The Philippines,  my island is in the South East”. Raoul’s eyes sparkled, so many interesting people worked for Niamh. </p><p>“I have some questions, if you have the time”? Fife sighed, she couldn’t refuse such a darling little creature, no matter how hard she tried. “Could you also not tell Niamh I was here. I don’t want her to be upset with me”. Fife nodded in agreement, knowing that it was a promise she would never keep. Her loyalties lied with Vi. </p><p> </p><p>“Fife, where the hell have you been?” Iacob hissed as Fife trudged through the office door. </p><p>“Some nosey little man held me up!” Fife roared back. </p><p>“Do I need to send Reza to deal with it?” Niamh sighed, ready to send that Remy kid on a mission. </p><p>“No, but he said his name was Raoul and he knew you. He also told me not to let you know he was here”. Niamh sighed irritably, this was Phillippe’s doing, she knew it. </p><p>“Fine, just sit down” Niamh hissed, ringing a bell to call the nosey little office assistant. Remy popped his head through the door, looking at Niamh. “Remy, please ask M. Reza to come to the office”. Remy nodded silently, and left. </p><p>Fife grabbed a chair in front of Niamh’s workstation, dragging it across the floor until she could see both Niamh and Iacob clearly. She plopped herself down, and sat back with a grin on her face. </p><p>“So, how’s it going Iacob?” Fife chuckled, noticing the man’s red face. She spoke in English, taking his lack of French into consideration. </p><p>“Tolerably. At least you are speaking to me in a language I understand” Iacob hissed sourly. Fife and Iacob didn’t always get alone. Iacob thought her to be rude and condescending, which was true. Fife believed Iacob to be stuck up and idealistic, which was also true.  Their personalities went together like oil and water, they could be in the same container together, but their personalities did not emulsify. </p><p>“It’s not my fault you only know two”. </p><p>“Three now, thank you”!</p><p>“Ooooooh big man knows three, now”. Niamh sat there, rubbing her temples. They bickered like children, and now mommy was going to have to break this up. </p><p>“Would you two shut up. Fife, stop being a bitch, Iacob learned Spanish for you. Iacob, toughen up”. The two stopped their bickering, but their eyes were still trained on one another. </p><p>A knock at the door came, and Iacob called for them to enter. Reza’s frame slid into the room, surveying the people before taking a seat near the door. </p><p>“Fife” Reza nodded in her direction. </p><p>“Hi, Reza! How is The Lilac doing”? Fife smiled broadly, glad to see her old friend. </p><p>“Well”, he responded simply. </p><p>“Is Mohammad filling my shoes to your satisfaction”? </p><p>“Mohammad still has much to learn, but he is a good first mate” Reza smiled stiffly at her. </p><p>“The pleasantries can wait” Niamh sighed, she could feel a headache coming on. “You two are going to be briefed on this situation”. Niamh and Iacob explained the situation from the last few weeks. Everything from Niamh’s talk with the ballerina’s to Raoul’s incident at home. When she finished, Reza was the first to ask a question. </p><p>“So what do we have to do with this”? </p><p>“You two will become our new acting managers. Find out everything you can, about this Opera Ghost”, Iacob replied. </p><p>“Wouldn’t this conversation have been better to have  at the barge office? It sounds like he has a way to maneuver his way around this place without being seen” Fife questioned, looking around the room for any obvious signs of an intruder. </p><p>“I am fully aware of the trap door inside this room. The fireplace slides inwardly, and lets out beneath the stage. Cossa is there right now, making sure we don’t have any unwanted intruders” Niamh spoke with the utmost confidence. </p><p>“Are you sure?” Fife asked, not fully trusting this place now. </p><p>“Yes, I have lived my whole life with trap doors Fife, I know them when I see them” Niamh was indeed confident about her assessment of this room. Fife shrugged, leaning back in her chair unconvinced. “Your jobs will simply be to guide. Make sure those idiot managers don’t fuck this up”. Suddenly Niamh switched to Spanish, a common language between the four of them. A language she hoped the Opera Ghost didn’t know. “Fife, you will be keeping a close eye on the affection of our Phantom’s eye. She is a singer, and the lead of the current opera. Reza, keep an eye on the Persian. You can speak his language, and will probably have the best chance of getting information out of him. He lives in the same apartment building you two will be staying in. Make sure he doesn’t interfere”. </p><p>“Persian?” Reza questioned, “I will see what I can find out”. </p><p>“In about thirty minutes we will all go down to the stage and make the announcement to the staff. Keep an eye out for this Opera Ghost. I have heard he killed a man” Iacob growled. </p><p>“He has killed someone?” Fife gasped dramatically. </p><p>“Yes, a stagehand named Joseph Buquet”. Niamh had learned about this recently, and had continued Buquet’s salary for his wife and children. Both her and Iacob felt great remorse for the man, and couldn’t leave his family to die in the streets. </p><p>“Vi, we should go down to the stage, it's almost time” Iacob sighed, and Niamh nodded. </p><p>“Let’s go, time to play our first hand”. </p><p> </p><p>“Ladies and gentlemen, please listen. There is an announcement” the stage manager M. Gabriel called. Niamh, Iacob, Fife and Reza stood in the center of the stage, waiting for the staff to gather. When the majority of them had taken their places, M. Gabriel cleared his throat. “M. Moncharmin and M. Richard apologize for not being here to make the announcement themselves, they are attending to other business. The Opera is now under new ownership, I am pleased to introduce Comtesse Niamh de Changy, and Iacob Bohm”. There were scattered claps and low mumbles coming from the crowd. This was very unexpected by all of them. </p><p>“Thank you M. Gabriel” Niamh smiled sweetly. “I know this comes as a shock to most of you, but please believe me when I say my plan for the Opera House is to improve it”. </p><p>“Bullshit, these aristocrats always say things like that” a voice cried in Italian. Niamh smirked, this was an opportunity to assert herself. </p><p>“That is true, but I am not a normal aristocrat” she replied in the same language. The voice did not respond, and her smirk turned into a grin. Niamh knew six languages besides her native one, it was a rarity that she met anyone within Europe who she couldn’t understand. She switched back to French with practiced ease. “Staff will remain the same, with the addition of two new managers. M. Reza Muhsin, and Madame Fife de la Sol. They will be temporary, until I am satisfied the Opera is running optimally”. </p><p>The staff was silent for a few moments, then a strong, clear voice rang out from the crowd. “Apologies Madame, but why do we need a second set of managers”. </p><p>“I have a very particular way of running things, M. Mushin and Madame de la Sol know my particularities. They are here to assist M. Richard and M. Monacharmin. If you have any questions or concerns please do not hesitate to address them”. Niamh looked over the crowd, trying to find the source of the voice. As if on command, a young woman made her way to the front of the crowd. Her brown hair was accented by creamy, pale skin. Her tall frame was one of a ballerina. </p><p>Niamh smiled, “It is wonderful to finally meet you Marisol Soreli”. </p><p>“Pleasure Madame, my apologies for speaking out of turn, I am simply worried for my fellow cast members” she replied warily. </p><p>“I understand, I do not plan on removing anyone unless provoked. As a gesture of my goodwill, I am going to be giving staff raises starting next week”. A gasp of delight arose from the crowd, as more murmuring began. Soreli smiled, Niamh returned one, they had made a silent agreement. There would be no ill will between them, for now. Niamh already enjoyed her husband’s mistress, like she thought she would. </p><p>The meeting came to an end, as staff came up to their new owners to say their hello’s. Fife looked around the room, gazing thoughtfully at the individuals now returning to their work. Suddenly a flash of blonde caught her gaze. Fife walked a few steps towards it, before it disappeared into the crowd. Her gut said to follow, so she did. Fife always trusted her gut.</p>
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<a name="section0009"><h2>9. The Sofia</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Fife wandered through the Opera, trying to pin down the person she had seen moments ago. As she passed staff, they gave her everything from interested glances, to outright glares. She was used to this. Her nationality often made people wary of her. Fife was not one of them, it was obvious. Deeper and deeper she walked, ending up in the costuming department. Beautiful pieces littered the room, hanging from wooden bars secured to the walls. She walked amongst them, her hand touching some delicate gown lying on a table. Fife had always loved clothing. It was the only thing she spent her money on, besides sending a good portion of her paycheck back to her village. </p><p>Standing in front of a mirror was a young woman with blonde hair, and another woman fitting a costume on her slight frame. Fife walked over, beaming. The blonde woman glanced at her before casting her eyes downward. </p><p>“Hello!” Fife cried, bouncing up to the two. “I am not sure if we have met, my name is…”. </p><p>“I know who you are” the woman replied curtly. Fife’s eyes shone, but her smile stayed plastered on her face. </p><p>“And who might you be”? The woman did not reply, she kept her gaze trained on the floor. </p><p>“Christine, I will be back” the brown-haired woman working on her costume whispered, before giving Fife a warm smile. The woman walked away, leaving the two alone. </p><p>“Oh, so you are our diva!” Fife cried. Christine nodded, still not returning her gaze. “I just wanted to extend my services to you Mademoiselle Daae, should you need anything, I am here”. </p><p>“I need nothing, thank you” she replied irritably. All she wanted was to be left alone. </p><p>“And yet, I don’t believe you,” Fife replied. There was a tinge of aggression to her voice. She was not one to back down from a challenge. Christine looked into the mirror to see Fife’s stoic face gazing back at her. “I know when things are wrong, Christine. It’s a gift, and I am rarely wrong”. </p><p>“Pardon me, but you do work for the de Changy family” Christine hissed, turning to her. </p><p>“I work for Lady Niamh Costlow, and her alone. The Comte and his family don’t pay my salary”. </p><p>“But she works for their benefit”! Fife laughed, surprising the young diva. Christine’s mouth formed a line on her face. She was not amused, and did not like how patronizing this woman was being. </p><p>“Vi works for herself, and maybe her brother. You need not worry about that”. </p><p>“How can you be so sure”? </p><p>“I have known Niamh for a long time. Her loyalties lie with her crew. She will die for them, I have seen it myself”. Christine gazed thoughtfully at the woman. She wanted to believe her more than anything, but she knew she couldn’t. It was dangerous. “Christine, if you would like to talk, I am here to listen. Just know that”. Fife nodded her head and turned to leave the room. Nothing more could be done to convince the young lady to trust her. </p><p>“Wait,” Christine called. Fife immediately turned to face her again. Christine was once again staring at the floor, feeling ashamed for judging her so quickly. “Could you give the Comtesse a message for me”? </p><p>“Of course” Fife turned back around, once again smiling broadly. </p><p>Niamh and Iacob had left the Opera shortly after making their announcement. Both were exhausted, and sat quietly in Niamh’s carriage. There was so much work to be done, and very little time to do it. On top of this, Iacob planned on leaving the country for a while to visit his daughter in Berlin. She had just given birth to Iacob’s second grandchild. </p><p>As they pulled up to Iacob’s apartment building on Rue de Rivoli. He had not found himself lodging in the same building as Fife and Reza, but that didn’t bother him much. As the carriage came to a stop, Iacob looked at Niamh thoughtfully. </p><p>“Why didn’t Raoul want you to know he was at the Opera”? It was the only question Iacob could think to ask. Niamh wasn’t usually this quiet, and that bothered him. </p><p>Niamh gazed out of the window, not bothering to meet his gaze. “Phillippe asked him to follow me”. </p><p>“How do you know”? </p><p>“Please Iacob, I know when I am being followed. The young Vicomte has been following us for the last few weeks. He is not the most stealthy of men”. </p><p>“I don’t like this Vi. You told me that Phillippe wouldn’t be a problem, but he is turning into a large one. You just seem to ignore it and busy yourself with this Opera Ghost business,”. Niamh’s eyes finally met his, in a look of regret. </p><p>“Iacob, I appreciate your care, but I understood the possibilities when I agreed to this. Trust me”. </p><p>“I trust you, just not him,” Iacob spat. </p><p>“I know, but just leave it be for now. If things get to be too much, I can always go home” Niamh smiled a weary smile. She looked tired, no doubt she had gotten little sleep since coming to Paris. </p><p>“I know you Vi, you never do that” Iacob sighed, before opening the door and hopping out. “If you need me, you know where to find me”. Niamh nodded before the door shut, and the carriage began to move once more. </p><p>“M. Mushin” Remy called from behind a partially closed office door. Reza looked up, grunting a reply for him to enter the office. He had been looking over the manager’s correspondence between themselves and the Opera Ghost. Each letter from the ghost was lined in black with childish red handwriting. It was mostly displeasure over casting, and his own salary. The Opera Ghost also had taken an interest in Christine Daae, mentioning her in more than a few times in the notes. “Madame Giry is here to see you”. Reza nodded, placing the letters back into Moncharmin’s desk drawer. </p><p>Madame Giry strode in, Reza’s hard look immediately stopped her queenly air. He was not one for flair, practical and simple was how he liked things. “What can I do for you, Madame”? </p><p>“I-I have a reply from the Opera Ghost”. She held in her hands a black-lined letter with an old-fashioned wax seal keeping it closed. The intricate image of the seal was the initials OG overlaid on a grinning skull. Reza took the letter from her outstretched hands, opening it and reading it aloud. </p><p>“To Comtesse de Changy, I welcome you to my Opera, and hope you will be an asset to me. I am most displeased at your refusal to pay my salary. I require twenty thousand francs a month for the direction of this Opera House. I will require it by the end of the day today. Should my demands be ignored, a disaster beyond your imagination will occur. Your Obedient Servant, OG,”. Reza looked at the woman in front of him with cold eyes. Threats were not taken lightly by the Persian, he had enough of them in his home country. “Who wrote this”? </p><p>“The Opera Ghost” she replied curtly. Her fear was palpable, both of the ghost and of Reza. </p><p>“Madame, sit down please” Madame Giry slowly sat in the seat Reza presented to her. Her eyes never left his as she wondered if her job was on the line. “I would like to know about this Opera Ghost. Have you ever seen him”? </p><p>“No”. </p><p>“Have you ever heard him”? Giry gulped, she had been warned to keep her dealings with him a secret. He would be very displeased if he knew of this conversation. “Yes”. </p><p>“So he has talked to you”? </p><p>“Only a few times”. Reza sat back in his seat, contemplating on this conversation. He had been told about this ghost. It was his reason for being here. This was the first time he had questioned any of the staff about this. </p><p>“Alright, I will pass on this message to the Comtesse, thank you”, Reza said, folding the letter back up and putting it into his coat pocket. Madame Giry rose from her seat, nodding her head at her new manager. She left as quickly as she came, closing the door behind her. Reza now had a decision to make. Should he tell Niamh now or later? </p><p>Niamh had been in her room for hours trying to work, but ended up lost in thought. Her mind could not shake the feeling of worry. So much had happened in a little under a month, she had little time to process. This moment centered her and allowed her to plan. No doubt the Opera Ghost would be upset with her refusal to pay him, but what would he do? Would he try to damage a set piece, or maybe a person? These were risks that Niamh had to consider, and would she take those risks? Niamh looked at her desk, where a pistol sat. She had picked it up from one of her men at the barge dock. After the incident with Raoul, she would not leave her only weapon to be her sword. She could do more damage with the sword, but a gun could provide a faster kill. Regardless, the paranoia of this situation was weighing heavily on her. </p><p>A knock came at her door, and she called for the visitor to enter. She was sitting at her window, watching the sun set over the horizon. The door opened and closed softly. Niamh had no thought about who it could be, she was still enthralled in her own thought. Footsteps walked towards her, doing their best to alert her of their presence. She ignored this, closing her eyes and leaning back against the wood of the window. The footsteps suddenly stopped, she could hear breathing. </p><p>“Niamh” Phillippe’s voice rang out coldly. He was irritated at being ignored for so long. </p><p>“I have nothing to say to you” she replied with a snap. Phillippe sat down opposite her on the window bench, leaning his head on the window as he watched her. </p><p>“You don’t have to say anything,” he mumbled. </p><p>“And I don't want to listen to you” Niamh hissed.  </p><p>“Do you ever stop being angry”? Niamh opened her eyes and gave him a glare. His amused grin annoyed her even more. </p><p>“No. What do you want”?</p><p>“Nothing”, he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. </p><p>“So leave” Niamh cried, leaning forward. Her face was twisted into a mask of rage. Phillippe leaned forward, inches from her face. </p><p>“Why are you so upset?” he grinned wildly. </p><p>“Because you seem to think the last few weeks haven’t happened”!</p><p>“I haven’t forgotten, but I am not angry anymore”. </p><p>“Well, I am”. Phillippe raised a hand and gently brushed it against her face. Niamh pulled away, leaning back again to protest his touch. Instead, he placed his hand on her left leg, gently squeezing her ankle. </p><p>“I know what happened after the wedding was...unfortunate”. </p><p>“That’s putting it lightly” Niamh hissed, attempting to shake his hand from her leg, which did not work. </p><p>“I had a talk with Agatha. She agrees that her line of questioning went too far. She pushed Crevan”. </p><p>“Well, now that we have that established, we can all rest easily”. Niamh’s sarcasm oozed from her lips. She was not sure if this was an apology or an excuse. Knowing Phillippe, it was an excuse. </p><p>“I also shouldn’t have lost my temper”. The room was still for a minute as Niamh processed his words. This was an apology, which angered Niamh even more. In the past their detente was; they would argue, not speak for an amount of time, then carry on as if nothing happened. Arguably, Phillippe had never crossed a line this firm, and he knew about Niamh’s issues with her cane. </p><p>“An understatement”, Niamh sighed. It was much harder to remain angry when he was apologizing. </p><p>“I won’t cross that line again,” Phillippe sighed. He would never tell her how he came to this conclusion, but it was necessary to preserve the peace in the household. There was already no controlling this wild woman, but her damage was halved when she was in a better mood. </p><p>“You better not, your end will be gruesome,” she said, almost in a pout.  Phillippe smiled, for now their disagreement was over. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Phillippe’s pout came back as Niamh bid the visitor to enter. Claudia came through the door, her eyes glued to Phillippe. </p><p>“P-pardon me, but there is someone here to see you,” the servant stuttered. Niamh immediately left her spot, walking to the door. </p><p>“Who”? </p><p>“A Fife de la Sol and Reza Mushin” Claudia replied, opening the door for her mistress. Phillippe rose as well, following Niamh to the foyer. It was after eight at night, so it must be important for them to come all the way there so late.  Niamh slowly made her way down the stairs, eyeing Reza and Fife suspiciously. The two were standing by the door, whispering in Spanish. </p><p>“Reza, Fife, what happened?” Niamh roared, her cane boomed as it hit the tiled floor. </p><p>“We have a problem,” Reza replied calmly. He looked behind his boss to see Phillippe watching closely from the top of the stairs. </p><p>“Aubrey is dead,” Fife sighed. Niamh looked at them confused. Her crew men died. It was something she had learned to deal with. Usually, the port office would inform her during the day. There must be more to this for Reza and Fife to be here. </p><p>“Okay. Send my condolences to his sister” Niamh sighed. Aubrey was a good friend of hers, and she would miss him. </p><p>“We found him hanging in the barge office,” Fife whispered. “Someone hung him”.  </p><p>“Someone”? </p><p>“Aubrey came in on a barge this morning. He was due for a few weeks of shore leave. Apparently, he had stayed late at the barge docks before leaving for his sister’s home. Iacob left him at about five in the evening. I came in to retrieve a personal item. I saw him hanging from the rafter in front of Iacob’s desk,” Reza’s voice was soft. He was obviously shocked and trying to compose himself. </p><p>“He killed himself?” Niamh was just as shocked. She never expected that from Aubrey. </p><p>“No, there was a note from the ghost,” Fife replied. </p><p>“What did it say? Does Iacob know?” Niamh cried. Iacob was very good friends with Aubrey. He would be heartbroken. </p><p>“We haven’t told him yet” Reza moaned, now realizing that he would have to confront him, eventually. </p><p>“The Opera Ghost said that this is what happens when his demands aren’t met. No one saw him enter, Jaspar was watching the building,”. Fife gazed down at the white marble floor. She was just as crushed about this as her colleague. </p><p>Niamh sighed wearily. She blamed herself. Twenty thousand francs was not worth a man’s life. Then again, she didn’t expect him to come to the barge office and kill someone. “Alright, we will deal with this in the morning. Reza, make sure that his sister receives his pay, and tack on the widows' pay for her. Fife, write The Sofia and tell Markus he is captain now. Riley will be first mate”. </p><p>“You want Markus? That psychotic little pyromaniac,” Fife hissed, displeased. </p><p>“Markus has the most experience on that ship, and the routes memorized. Regardless of his habits, he is the only logical choice. With Riley watching him, there should be no more incidents”. Fife huffed, she did not like Markus. In a fit of rage, he had tried to burn down a rival company's ship, accidentally setting The Juan Carlos on fire in the process. Fife’s ship would come out relatively unscathed, but she harbored a lot of resentment for him. “Now both of you go home and get some rest, tomorrow is going to be a long day”. </p><p>Fife and Reza nodded, turning to leave. Niamh watched them walk out of the front door and into the darkness. Sorrow filled her, but there was no turning back now. One of her most loyal captains had been killed. This was now war. She turned, realizing that Phillippe had been there the whole time. He had no grasp of the Spanish language, thankfully, but he would want an explanation. </p><p>“What was that about?” he asked as she climbed the stairs once more. </p><p>“One of my men died, he was killed earlier today,” she replied stoically. Niamh continued past Phillippe, just wanting to go back to her room. </p><p>“Killed? Someone murdered him?” Phillippe followed her, not letting her get more than a few feet from him. </p><p>“Apparently, we don’t know the details yet. He was found hanging in the barge office with a note from his attacker,”. The two of them entered her room, Phillippe shut the door behind them.  </p><p>“Have you called the police”? </p><p>“I am not sure. Neither of them mentioned the police. I will find out tomorrow,” Niamh replied, sitting down on her bed. </p><p>“You shouldn’t go. What if the killer is still lurking around? Send Iacob,” Phillippe cried, kneeling in front of her. </p><p>“Iacob and Audrey were good friends. I don’t want him to deal with this alone,” Niamh sniffed, hanging her head down. She had been good friends with him too. </p><p>“Please, just listen to me for once,” he whispered softly, placing a finger under her chin and raising her eyes to meet his. </p><p>“I need to be there, I own the company”. </p><p>“Then let me go”. Niamh stiffed an outraged laugh. That would probably make things worse. </p><p>“I don’t think that would be a good idea” Niamh smiled, appreciative of the gesture. She was also slightly suspicious. </p><p>“Neither you nor Iacob should go. You two could be the ones this killer is looking for. Send me and Reza,”. Niamh stared at him for a minute, processing this idea. Phillippe was correct, she had no idea what the intentions of the Opera Ghost were. Aubrey and Iacob looked similar. Maybe he had killed the wrong person accidentally? She couldn’t afford to lose Iacob, and Phillippe could probably get more information from the police than her. </p><p>“Alright, but Fife is coming as well,”. </p><p>“That’s fine” Phillippe smiled, kissing her softly. Niamh raised an eyebrow. Now this was definitely suspicious. Regardless, she couldn’t argue with him on this one. He had made a valid point. </p><p>Niamh sighed once more as Phillippe rose. There was so much to do, and so little time. Sleep probably wouldn’t be possible for either of them.</p>
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